


Lone Pair

by kibbulation



Series: Mint Condition [2]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Gen, age rating is for a whole lot of trauma, also a nonbinary supporting character, its all about. Character Development, no romance here unless u count background stuff, trans supporting character, warning relocated to story notes be sure to look at those
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 103,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26604298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibbulation/pseuds/kibbulation
Summary: Hatchet has spent the past years preparing to take up arms against the vile AI that created her and made her life into a living hell. Finally able to start enacting her revenge, the only drawback is being forced to work with the other people involved - and the things she'd like to forget from her past catching up to her. Between facing the AI and the ever-growing reminders that she can't shut out forever, she's going to have to learn how to rely on the people around her whether she wants to or not.Direct sequel to Piperidine.
Series: Mint Condition [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641811
Comments: 77
Kudos: 25





	1. Target

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! before anything else, got a bunch of content warnings - this fic covers some sensitive topics, which i have done my best to handle as respectfully as i can. so warnings for - CSA (never outright described, only implications of what happened in the past [also the main reason i moved this to tags, i dont want the kinda creeps who might actively search for that here. pedos go and rot]), mentions of self harm, brief suicidal ideation, anger, nightmares, PTSD and panic attacks, homelessness, drowning, attempted murder, shame and self esteem issues, trust issues  
> i'll be giving specific warnings at the start of each chapter if relevant (if no warnings given assume none for that chapter) though some - such as anger and PTSD - are just recurring themes throughout the whole fic. even with the worst stuff never getting any description, i expect parts of this may be uncomfortable to read so please be aware of what it covers. if i have gotten my foreshadowing right then hopefully the stuff i expect to be most uncomfortable will be something people can begin to suspect beforehand and have the chance to step out if necessary before getting to it.  
> with that said, thank u for ur interest, once again i have written out the story before posting it so can assure u weekly updates guaranteed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In VSEPR theory, a lone pair of electrons will exert greater repulsion than a bonded pair, pushing other electron pairs further away and requiring more space around the central atom.
> 
> figured i would add an explanation of the title since it is not obviously a chemistry term at first glance but i assure u i am in fact still being a nerd. warnings for this chapter - starts with a nightmare, skip first paragraph to get past that

Strapped down. Struggling against the restraints, she couldn’t move, couldn’t break free. She could hear the machinery around her, above her, below her. She knew what was coming next, and she couldn’t stop it. She opened her mouth to scream, cry, shout for help, even if she knew no-one could come, but the sound just wouldn’t escape her, catching in her throat, blocked. She tried to force it past the barricade. Why? Why couldn’t she do it? Was it not enough that she couldn’t even move? Writhing against her constraints, she could see a mechanical arm wielding a syringe descending. _No. Not again. NOT AGAIN!_ She tried to force her voice out again, shoving every scrap of her diminished willpower into it. The sound finally burst past the barrier in her throat, and then-

Hatchet screamed, jolting awake. Twitching violently, she sat up, panicking, ready to run when she realised she wasn’t held down. Breathing rapidly, she stopped, shaking as she looked around her. The familiar abandoned warehouse stretched out, dimly lit by the faintest glow of a street lamp reaching through the filthy windows, her corner the only part with anything in it. Curling up on her beanbag, her hands balled into tight fists as she waited for the shivering to subside. The same fucking nightmare. The same old memories, playing out on repeat through her mind every time she tried to rest. Groping around in the dark, she found her phone, pressing a button to light up the screen. Five o’ clock. She’d managed to get about four hours of sleep. Average.

A snarl twitched around her mouth as she sat up again, as if she could scare the last of the shivering away. Using her beaten old phone to light the area around her, she picked up one of the snacks she’d dumped on the floor, a cereal bar. Familiar nausea clung to her stomach in the aftermath of the nightmare, but she ignored it, instead dealing with the hunger she always felt immediately after waking. The feeling of sickness grew as she ate, but it wasn’t enough to reject the food and send it back up. It never was. It just insisted on being there regardless.

She didn’t know how long it had been since her last encounter with the AI, the day she first met more of its pitiful creations, the day she was shot. Long enough for it to have healed. She had never cared enough to check dates. What did it matter? It didn’t. She rolled over, restless. She didn’t want to try and sleep again, unwilling to invite the nightmares back in. Standing, she got changed and made her way to the worn hole in the wall, shifting forms to wriggle through it. Outside, the world was just barely beginning to lighten, summer still clinging even past its height. At least it wasn’t too cold. Pulling the hood of her raggy excuse for a cloak up and stuffing her hands into her pockets, she walked. It was exceedingly rare to see anyone else around at this time of the day, but the occasional morning joggers still tended to stare. _Nosy pricks_.

She wandered, not particularly caring where. She knew the area nearby more than well enough by now, she could be just about anywhere in a radius of a few kilometres and know how to get back. It didn’t matter. It was only to get out and _do_ something, deal with the restlessness, preferably when the world was still fairly quiet and empty. On the rarity that she did come across any people she steered clear, giving as wide a berth as possible. _People_ were annoying. _People_ stared and asked stupid questions and did stupid things and didn’t mind their own business.

Like that damn Peppermint. Poking her nose in, showing up at the test centre they’d managed to destroy, then even acting like she was concerned afterwards. _Hah._ What a farce. She didn’t even care enough to actually _go_ to another one herself. Hatchet huffed angrily to herself. _She better at least get me that fucking list of the test centres' locations._ Hatchet had found out where to find her, if only from nosy passersby whispering about “that other person like her at Ammo Knights” and snooping on conversations further into the city. Hatchet tended to avoid the city centre, too busy for her liking, but she’d have to go eventually. _Annoying._ Might as well make it today. Once the shop would actually be open, anyway. Maybe if she went first thing it wouldn’t be too busy.

After an hour of walking around, she went back to the warehouse. It hadn’t burned enough time to warrant heading to the square just yet, but it had woken up her body, and she needed a decent breakfast. Squishing herself through the little hole in the wall, her one way in and out of her own little haven, she crashed on the beanbag again as the smell of damp filled her nostrils once more. With the sun having risen properly now, it was as light as it ever got in the decrepit old building. Enough to see, even if still somewhat dim through the dirty windows. She picked up a box of cereal from the floor, unrolling the plastic bag within and eating it dry. With no fridge, oven or any other kitchen wares, she didn’t have much option for preparing food and stuck to anything she could eat as is. Really, she didn’t have much in general. The beanbag, a blanket, some other clothes. The crowbar she’d found, the portable generator she’d stolen and the solar panels it could charge with, the other tangled components of the EMP, set aside in their own space along with her clawed gloves and ink tank. One small section of the floor by the beanbag was dedicated to food, packets of crisps, snack bars and the like, accompanied by a plastic bag for stuffing rubbish in. Other than that, the warehouse was largely empty. In another corner she’d managed to hang a wire where she could leave clothes to dry after washing them, but that was all. Everything else she owned fit in her cargo pants. Some more snacks, a tennis ball, a few sewing supplies she’d had to acquire to fix her shirt and cape after that day. The faint blue stain was still visible on the back of her shirt, never quite coming out, but it was always covered by the cape anyway, so she still kept it. The shirt had managed to soak up most of the blood before it ruined the cape too, and what little had made its way through was a small enough amount that it washed out.

Taking a water bottle from her deepest pocket to drink from, she folded up the cereal bag and closed the box shut again, picking up one more snack bar to eat and yawning slightly. _Stupid physical needs._ Once appropriately full, she checked the time again. Only seven am. How tedious. Days dragged on for _so long_ when you barely slept. If she really dragged her feet then the walk to the city centre could last almost forty five minutes, but that would still give the same length of time left to waste in town. In the square, significantly more densely populated than the city outskirts. _Ugh. No thanks._

Curling up on the beanbag, she elected to rest instead. Not doze, not try and fall asleep, but at least lie mostly still and conserve energy. Taking the tennis ball from her pocket, she idly bounced it against the floor to keep from getting too bored, the repetitive action giving her something simple enough to occupy her mind without being too much effort. Whenever her eyes began to droop she narrowed them irritably, growling slightly as she determinedly ignored the tiredness. The moments slowly ticked by, and eventually an hour passed. Standing and pocketing the ball again, she left the warehouse once more, making her way into the city centre.

Even first thing in the morning, there were people in the square. Those who glanced her way ended up staring, as they always did. She ignored them, or glared at anyone who ended up too close. Heading directly to Ammo Knights, she went in. As soon as she opened the door, she spotted who she was after. Peppermint was hard to miss, even hiding away in a corner of the shop. Even if she didn’t sport the same bright green skin as Hatchet’s own, she was just a bit _big_ for her surroundings. She didn’t look up from the workbench she sat at, poking around with one of the kinds of weapons the shop provided. The horseshoe crab at the counter soon made his way over as she came in, launching into the usual customer service spiel, but paused slightly after a moment, as soon as he’d really gotten a look at her.

“Welcome to Ammo Knights, oldest providers of the finest weapons around! We have everything to suit your needs, from the lightest shooters to the heaviest chargers! Though, er, I take it you’re here to speak to my assistant rather than… browse the wares?”

Hatchet rolled her eyes. “Take a wild guess,” she muttered sarcastically as she strode past him to the corner. Standing at the work desk, she kicked it slightly when Peppermint didn’t look up right away. “Hey.”

Peppermint jumped, quickly turning to the source of the disruption and staring in surprise for a moment before speaking. “...Hatchet! ...Um, are you… H-how’s your back?”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes as she crossed her arms. This idiot was really insisting on keeping up that fake concern? “None of your cod-damn business. Where’s that list?”

Peppermint looked away, her eyes darting around the shop. “...Um, I… don’t have it…”

Hatchet’s temper flared, and she growled. “Well _why the fuck not?_ ”

“They wouldn’t give it to me… I said you wanted it, and they asked why, and who would back you up, and… Marina said no-one should go and try to deal with it on their own, and she wouldn’t give me a copy.”

“And you just _told_ them that?” Hatchet snapped. “It didn’t occur to you that you could just _lie?_ ”

“Excuse me,” came the voice of the crab from behind her, and she turned to glare down at him. “I will _not_ tolerate that kind of threatening behaviour in my shop. Either clean up your act, or I will not hesitate to call the authorities.”

Hatchet held in the hiss she so badly wanted to throw his way. _Fucking nuisance._ She turned back to Peppermint and made the barest effort to be civil.

“If they won’t give it to you because these- they don’t want anyone going alone,” she began through gritted teeth, making an effort to restrain the growl in her throat. “Then _tell them_ that I _won’t be._ ”

Peppermint gazed at her quietly for a moment. “I’m not going to lie to them.”

Hatchet felt her mouth twitching angrily, trying to keep her voice even. “ _Why not?_ ”

“I don’t want you going alone either.”

Hatchet let out an exasperated, angry growl, her hands tightening into fists. “ _Don’t act like you give a shit!_ Those dumps need destroying, and I _will_ do it, whether you think you can stop me or not!” She turned on her heel, seeing the crab about to open his mouth again. “Don’t fucking bother. I’m already going.”

She stormed out of the shop, furious. _Useless brat! What’s wrong with her!?_ She felt herself shaking slightly in anger as she walked rapidly away from the city centre. Glowering, she felt people staring, indignantly protesting when she pushed past anyone who happened to be in her way. If only she could remember where she’d come from herself. Her recollection of it was… patchy at best. When she had escaped that damned hellhole, her only thought had been to get as far away from it as quickly as possible. She didn’t really care to revisit those memories, so seemingly they had never properly formed. Or maybe she had so single-mindedly ran that there wasn’t anything else to remember. _Just fucking wonderful._

Caught up in her black mood, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her, didn’t realise she was being followed. Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and she snarled, swiping at it as she turned around. Peppermint quickly yanked her hand back, looking uncertain.

“What the _fuck_ do you want?” Hatchet snapped, hissing.

Peppermint was silent, slow to respond. Impatient, Hatchet narrowed her eyes, but Peppermint finally spoke up before she lost interest and left.

“...I know I said before that I didn’t want to come, but if you’re going to go putting yourself in danger on your own otherwise… I’d rather help.”

“Oh, so _now_ you want to tag along?” Hatchet growled. “Fuck off.”

Peppermint frowned, furrowing her brow. “How come now you won’t let me help? Do you even know where to go?”

Hatchet’s lips twitched into a grimace. She _didn’t_ know where to go - that much was unfortunately true. She’d only found the other two from following rumours of _people like her_ , as the obnoxious masses tended to word it, and had been severely lacking in any helpful clues since then. “ _Fine_. Have it your way. Find out where we’re going and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Peppermint echoed. “I don’t know if everyone will be ready that soon…”

“ _Everyone?_ ” Hatchet repeated incredulously. “Who the hell else do you plan on bringing? Why do you need that many people? It’s not fucking necessary. Don’t bother.”

“Last time-”

“ _Last time_ was only a cod-damn mess for _one reason, and one reason only_. The EMP will _work_ this time, _properly_ , so even having anyone else there at all is a waste of time! I’m only letting _you_ join so I have a chance to find out where the hell I’m going. No-one else needs to get involved,” Hatchet insisted irritably.

“...I think they’ll still want at least Marina to be there, just in case,” Peppermint replied quietly, looking aside.

“Great, so my only option is to have the circus follow me around. Fucking wonderful,” Hatchet grumbled. _If things go as they **should** this time then maybe they’ll get lost and let me do things on my own._ “Whatever. Do what you want. As long as I get to destroy that damned thing.”

“I’ll, um, talk to the others later…” Peppermint said. “I don’t know when everyone will be ready, but if you come back tomorrow I can let you know what we decide.”

Hatchet huffed, turning. “Fine.” She didn’t wait for any response before she strode away. Well, it wasn’t what she had wanted to get from all of this, but it was probably better than nothing. As long as the nuisances stubbornly sticking to her wouldn’t ruin things. At least now she knew what she was doing she could get out of the increasingly busy city centre before it became too full of people.

Making her way back to the city outskirts, she wandered the quiet streets again. She didn’t want to go back to the warehouse, but she didn’t have the energy for much else. She knew if she did return she’d end up crashing on the beanbag, and her tired body would be far too tempted to try and sleep again no matter how reluctant she may be in her mind. At this point she was so- so _used_ to the nightmares, so expectant of them, that it was probably what started them in the first place, spending her last moments before reluctantly drifting into sleep with the inevitable horrors on her mind. They didn’t happen _every_ time she fell asleep, but it was more than often enough to put her off.

A shiver ran through her, and she shook her head. _There’s no point in thinking about this._ There was a coffee shop around here somewhere. Caffeine might keep the exhaustion at bay for a while longer. Even if it meant willingly talking to other people. At least customer service workers tended to be as done with everyone else as she was.

Finding her way to the little coffee shop, she tiredly approached the counter and ordered a latte. She didn’t have much money, most of it being scavenged or from selling scrap metal she found to the scrapyard around the corner from the warehouse, but she got by and had enough for an occasional extra. If she knew enough about computers she would try and take those from the test centres to sell, too, but she wasn’t sure what parts would be safe and what definitely needed to be eradicated. _Better be sure and just smash it all._

The barista serving her didn’t speak much when taking her order, giving a usual plastered-on customer service smile but not bothering to try and make small talk as some did. Maybe they had enough sense to tell that this wasn’t someone who wanted to waste time making conversation about nothing. When they handed her the drink she sat down by the window in one corner with it. Might as well. This way she could still sit and rest for a moment without it being too comfortable and risking falling asleep.

It was too hot to drink right away and she stared idly out the window, not really paying attention to the people who went by. Fatigue dragged her down, and she ended up making space to cross her arms on the table, resting her head atop them and yawning. One of the tentacles of her hair fell around the tall latte glass, and she could feel its heat. It was muffled by the glass, but still warmer than comfortable. She didn’t have the energy to bother moving, though, and it wasn’t hot enough to burn, so she left it. The discomfort would just help prevent her from falling asleep.

That was the theory, anyway. It occurred to her when she almost began to doze off that it was no longer uncomfortably hot. How long had she been lying there? Reluctantly sitting up, she sipped from the latte, testing the temperature. Drinkable. Impatiently gulping it down, she pushed the empty glass away and flopped down on the table again as she waited for the caffeine to work its magic. It felt like it took far too long. Was it even doing anything at all?

After a moment, she felt the energy reviving her. It spread through her quickly, and she sat up, making her leave. Finding more purpose in her steps now, she headed to the old dump on the far outreaches of the city. Might as well spend the day gathering more scrap.


	2. Same difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only particular warning for this chapter would be more anger and nausea than usual

Another night, another nightmare. This time Hatchet didn’t scream herself awake, didn’t get to release herself from the experience early, and the awful memories played out to their horrific conclusion, twistedly vague and esoteric as dreams so often were. She awoke shuddering on the cold hard floor, having writhed off the beanbag in her struggles. Crawling back onto it, she curled up tightly, a strong nausea filling her as she gripped her arms, digging her nails into her skin. She’d long since given up on asking herself _why_ she had to relive this as frequently as she did. This was just how it was for her.

She didn’t know how long she lay still for, but eventually unfurled, letting go of herself and reaching for her phone. Irritated marks were left behind as she moved her hands away, the top layer of skin broken. Blinking wearily, she checked the time. She’d gotten more sleep than usual, at least. Was it worth it, having to be explicitly reminded of the worst details in exchange for more rest? She’d contemplated that question before, long ago, but she didn’t care anymore. It didn’t change anything either way. It was better than being trapped in the entirety of the nightmare and _still_ barely getting any sleep.

Still feeling sick, significantly more so than the previous morning, she didn’t want to eat yet, but if she wanted to get to Ammo Knights before it was busy she’d have to go soon. Changing out of her night clothes, she grabbed a handful of snacks and stuffed them into the pockets of her cargo pants. Letting out a heavy sigh, she shifted forms to wriggle through the hole in the wall and face the outside world.

Standing again, she began to walk, only to feel a wave of dizziness wash over her. Familiar blood rush clouded her vision and she swayed, throwing an arm out, searching for the warehouse wall to lean on. _Uuugh._ She groaned inwardly as she waited for it to pass, testing her balance before moving away from the wall. She pulled out her water bottle as she began walking again, hoping something as gentle as that might be acceptable to her innards in their nauseous state. The frequent sickness was a certain clash against her body’s absolute need for sustenance.

Drinking didn’t seem to exacerbate the ill feeling, at the very least. She still didn’t feel up to eating. Whatever. The dizziness was gone, for now. She’d just have to make sure she ate before the next time she had to stand up after being stationary. She felt a rising hunger beneath the nausea, but it wasn’t strong enough to overpower it, not yet.

The balance between the two slowly tilted as she walked, the sick feeling displaced as she shook her thoughts away from the nightmares and the activity prompted her body to demand replacement energy. It was a very gradual process though, and she still wasn’t sure eating would be worth the discomfort yet when she arrived at the weapons shop.

Turning her gaze to the corner, Peppermint was in the same spot as before, and had looked up this time as the bell at the door sounded its chime. The damned crab was there too, watching her with a guarded expression as he rearranged a display. Hatchet ignored him and walked over to Peppermint, silently staring down at her expectantly.

“Um… Hi,” Peppermint began.

Hatchet glowered, unimpressed. “Well? Has the idiot crew settled on a plan or what?”

Peppermint frowned. “They’re not idiots. It’s short notice, so not everyone is around, but if we go this evening there’s one not too far away that we could go to, and we’d have Badger, Pearl and Marina’s help.”

“Great,” Hatchet said sarcastically. “Pipsqueak, Pippiersqueak and the one person who actually did anything vaguely competent last time. One out of three at least isn’t _completely_ useless.”

“Why are you so opposed to having anyone else help?” Peppermint asked.

“Because people are fucking idiots? Just look at you and Tiny, getting yourselves stuck in a cod-damn blender. Good job, morons,” Hatchet replied derisively. “Remember how the only person who actually helped _wasn’t actually there?_ People just get in the way.”

“Um, Lavender helped you get to the lift,” Peppermint pointed out. “And Badger helped by getting the goo stuff off of Henry.”

“And if none of you had been there, none of that would have been necessary in the first place,” Hatchet growled. “Without you nuisances in the background I would’ve heard the bastard coming and dealt with it myself, _without_ getting shot.”

“I’m not sure that’s true…”

Hatchet’s mouth twitched as her growl intensified. “Think whatever the fuck you want. Just tell me when we’re going.”

Peppermint sighed. “Be at the studio on the other side of the square at seven pm.”

“Done.” Without another word, Hatchet strode away, paying not a second thought to either her or the crab as she left. Making her way out of the square quickly, she slowed once in a quieter area, pulling a cereal bar out of one of her pockets. The nausea wasn’t entirely gone, but it was mild enough that eating should be bearable by now. Biting into the bar, the feeling immediately worsened, but it was still ignorable. Forcing it down alongside a packet of crisps, she headed to the library, refilling her water bottle from the drinking fountain there. She then detoured from the fastest route back to the warehouse, making her way to the farmers’ market.

Wandering her way around the stalls, she kept an eye on who was looking where and how many people were around. It was fairly barren, still early in the morning. The first few times she had been here, everyone stared, as with anywhere else she went. It made things incredibly difficult for her, but the more she returned, the more the same old vendors got used to her. Some of them even bothered to say “good morning” as she passed - even if nothing more than that, aware by now she wouldn’t bother responding - usually the ones she’d made… _legitimate_ purchases from.

She made her way to one of them now, selling various fruits. The seller seemed preoccupied, and gave her a quick nod before turning back to whatever she was doing behind the boxes. Looking over the bananas, Hatchet picked one that looked appropriately ripe and tore it off the bunch. The sound attracted the seller’s attention, and Hatchet passed it to her as she moved to the weighing scales, next to another box filled with apples. Hatchet dug in her pockets for coins as she named the price, not-so-vacantly staring down the aisle of stands as she handed them over. No-one looking. As the seller turned to get a bag of change from behind her, Hatchet quickly slipped one of the apples into one of the deeper pockets of her cargo pants where it wouldn’t stick out conspicuously. Muttering a quiet thanks as she was handed change, she unpeeled the banana as she walked away.

She didn’t face any hindrance as she left, and made her way back to the warehouse, eating as she went. Fruit tended to be easy enough to eat without upsetting her stomach too much. And it wasn’t too expensive - especially if you only paid for the cheapest one. Once inside, she grabbed her torch, the portable generator, the associated solar panel and the mess of cables, the generator just barely fitting in the biggest pocket she had if it was completely empty otherwise. The cables and panel went in the adjacent pocket, the torch in another, and she picked up the crowbar and stuffed that in a back one.

Checking outside, she looked up at the sky. Blue summer stretched out, uninhibited by clouds. Good. Quickly going back inside to get her claw gloves and ink tank, she put them on and connected them up. Pressing the button on the palm to activate the ink taps in the claw tips, she painted a trail of ink up the side of the building and swam up. On the flat roof, she laid out the generator and solar panel, connecting them up. If the weather had been less than helpful, it had a cable that could be used to charge it from a plug socket as well, but for that she’d have to go to the library or some other public venue and stay with it so it wouldn’t end up stolen. No-one should have reason to bother looking on top of an old abandoned building, though, so it should be safe to leave it here to charge unsupervised. Going back down, she put the gloves and ink tank back inside, then made her way to the dump, ready to spend her day earning some amount of pocket change.

The day wore on, and Hatchet took herself towards the city centre once more as the afternoon turned into evening. She’d collected the generator from the warehouse and put the solar panel back inside, retrieving her claw gloves to stuff in her pockets and now reluctantly walked through the still-busy streets of Inkopolis. This place had far too many people. Why did their meeting point have to be right in the thick of it all? Picking her way through the crowds, she loitered just around the corner, in the quieter alley by the studio. There weren’t too many people coming and going this way, not too many obnoxious fools staring at her as they went past. Soon bored, she took the tennis ball from her pocket and bounced it against the wall as she waited.

It wasn’t too long before the others arrived. The sound of the tennis ball seemed to be what notified them of where she was, as Peppermint eyed it curiously when she turned down the little alleyway. Badger was in tow, both of them holding weapon cases. The two of them soon spotted her, and she pocketed the ball again as they approached. Badger silently appraised her with a wary gaze for a moment before pulling out their phone and turning their attention to that. Peppermint was more relaxed, giving a little wave, though still didn’t stand too close. Neither said anything.

Hatchet narrowed her eyes. “So what the hell are we doing?”

Peppermint turned to Badger, who looked up from their phone before speaking up in that quiet voice of theirs. “Just let the others know we’re here, one of them will let us in here in a sec.”

“And we’re wasting time going in here, _why,_ exactly?”

Badger rolled their eyes. “If it’s anything like before, it’ll be because Pearl has a helicopter on the roof to take us where we’re going.”

Their tone was irritating, but whatever. _Fine._ Hatchet leaned back against the wall and said nothing more. It wasn’t long until she heard the door on the side of the studio being opened, and as Badger had guessed, the three of them were led up to the top of the building where Pearl and Marina were waiting alongside a helicopter.

“Is this everyone?” Marina asked.

“Yup,” Badger said, nodding.

The octoling turned to Hatchet, offering a hand to shake. “You’re Hatchet, right? Have you recovered from last time?”

Hatchet fixed her with a cold stare, crossing her arms. “I’m fine, it’s been _weeks_.”

“Aight, chill out,” Pearl said, staring up at her. “Ya can’t blame her for asking, you look like a mess.”

“I’m. _Fine,_ ” Hatchet reiterated irritably. “Let’s go fucking destroy this damn thing already.”

Pearl shrugged, turning to get in the helicopter. Marina seemed less amenable, watching her with a less-than-friendly expression.

“From what we heard from Agent Three, I can tell you know what you’re doing, but it doesn’t justify that kind of awful attitude,” she said.

“That’s nice and all, but shit happens whether there’s justification or not,” Hatchet said dismissively, walking past her. Marina stopped her, holding her arm. She growled, tearing away as Marina spoke again.

“Yeah, no. That won’t fly here. If you want to continue having anything to do with dealing with the AI, clean up your act. You want to be part of the team, you have to behave with at least the barest amount of decency.”

Hatchet frowned angrily. “Do I _look like_ I want to be part of any stupid team? I have no interest in getting all buddy-buddy with any of you. I just want to _tear that thing apart._ I’d be much happier doing it on my own, I can promise you that,” she spat acerbically. Marina didn’t shy away from her, didn’t shrink back in the face of aggression. If anything, she squared up, resolutely standing her ground.

“That’s not an option. It’s an extremely dangerous entity. As the one with the details, I won’t let anyone go off getting themselves killed by being stupid and reckless. If you want to have anything to do with this, you’re going to have to cooperate. Otherwise, you’re out.”

Hatchet glared at her, her mouth twitching towards a snarl, but she stayed silent. Marina put her hand out again.

“So. Act vaguely tolerable, and get to take part. You don’t even necessarily have to be nice, just don’t be outright hostile and dismissive. Deal?”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes, but she realised she didn’t have much choice in the matter, not unless she managed to get ahold of a copy of that stupid list for herself. Groaning resignedly, she shook Marina’s hand. “Fine.”

“Good.” Marina turned and got into the helicopter. Hatchet followed, irritable. Could she at least just keep to herself and not bother talking to them or would that still count as _being dismissive?_ Planting herself in a corner, she decidedly kept her distance. Peppermint and Badger were sat together, predictably, and Pearl was in the front with an unfamiliar person, presumably the driver. Marina sat near the front, opening up a laptop as they took off.

“Alright. Now we got locations but we didn’t get any other details, so with regards to the layout or what kind of thing we’re looking for, we don’t know. We’re also in the dark on what to expect, if any of the contents of the places differs from what you’ve seen before,” Marina said. “However, given it’s an AI without its own body, then it’s highly likely all of its locations will be highly automated, so my hacking should be effective - as well as EMPs.” She pointedly turned to Hatchet. “I take it you still have what you used last time?”

 _Yeah, no fucking duh._ Hatchet held the comment in, instead pulling the tangled mess of wires and components out of her pocket to hold up. Marina nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good. The main thing to worry about then would be any threats that can’t be neutralised by interfering with the computer systems - like if it’s using the goop that lets it control people. When you’re inside the place, make sure to be aware of your surroundings and anyone else there. I don’t want anyone getting injured if possible.” She paused briefly as Pearl hopped back from the front, joining them. “Peppermint’s already told me about her experiences, but Hatchet, what have you seen in these places?”

Hatchet restrained the growl that immediately tried to form, gritting her teeth and biting back the desire to tell her to mind her cod-damn business. “...The ones I’ve seen have been pretty much the same. Mechanical mazes of corridors and rooms. Don’t be surprised if machinery suddenly pops out of the wall at you.”

“What about people? Or sanitised octarians?”

“Last time was the only time I’ve seen anyone else there,” Hatchet replied. “Though that’s only one out of three, and the first one was…” She paused, an involuntary growl escaping her. “Well, I was the lab rat there. And the second one I went to is probably the one _she_ came from-” She emphasised her words by jerking a thumb at Peppermint, “-since I found it from following rumours of people talking about her. So they probably usually have some poor bastard stuck there, unless they’ve managed to escape on their own. No clue what this sanitised shit is, though.”

“You… don’t know about them?” Peppermint asked.

“That is in fact what I just said, yes,” Hatchet said, rolling her eyes.

The others exchanged glances, and Peppermint looked uncomfortable, shifting a little closer to Badger and falling silent.

“Would anyone care to _enlighten_ me?” Hatchet asked, making an effort not to snap. _If it’s something we might have to deal with then are you going to fucking tell me or not?_

“They’re more of the AI’s creations,” Marina said.

“Zombie foot-soldiers,” Pearl added. “They look kinda like you. Green skin ‘n weird eyes. They’re super dead, though.”

“Eight had to deal with them on the Deepsea Metro. I’m a little surprised it doesn’t seem to have them around the other facilities, if you don’t know about them,” Marina mused. “Though I suppose the test centres have both been separate to the Metro, one just happened to be beneath it. They were more used as part of the testing to gather _worthy components_ …” She frowned as she spoke the last words, like they were something distasteful.

“Um… So… Do you know about… How it made things? ...How it made _us?_ ” Peppermint asked tentatively. She still looked uncomfortable, and had linked her arm through Badger’s, gripping the inkling’s hand tightly. They were looking up at her observantly, and had brought their other hand to place over hers.

“Why the hell would I care about that?”

Peppermint stared across at her silently. Her expression was… somewhat shocked, still disconcerted, but there was something else there too. Was it… pity? No, that didn’t seem quite right. Hatchet couldn’t place what it was, but she didn’t like it. Distrustful, she narrowed her eyes. Peppermint hastily looked away.

“A-anyway…” She fidgeted as if to try and get closer to Badger, but given their already-immediate proximity, that wasn’t really possible. She didn’t seem to have any follow up to her comment, looking aside awkwardly.

 _The hell is that about?_ Looking around, she turned to see Marina holding Pearl’s arm, grabbing her attention and giving her a meaningful look. It felt like there was something everyone was deliberately not saying, something they all knew and had at the forefront of their minds but wouldn’t share. Hatchet huffed and leaned back, turning her attention away from them. _Whatever._ It’s not like this was the first time she had ever been the odd-one-out. Bitter resentment stewed in her as an uncomfortable silence fell between them, the only noise being that of the helicopter for a while, until Marina cleared her throat.

“...In any case. It _is_ still possible you may run into them at some point, as it certainly has access to them. Now that multiple of its facilities have been destroyed, it may increase preventative measures, so even if you haven’t come across them before, it might rely on them for some additional security.”

“If they look like us, how do you tell if it’s one of them sanitised pricks or if it’s just another lab rat?” Hatchet asked.

“They aren’t exactly like you. They’re physically identical to octarians aside from the difference in colour. That is, their hair will still be like mine with all suckers on the outer side, and if you get to see the markings around their eyes it’ll be the completely disconnected rings of an octoling,” Marina explained.

“They got these shella fresh shades too,” Pearl added. “If they wear cool glowing sunglasses, they’re probably sanitised.”

“I wonder what those are for?” Marina pondered quietly. “Maybe it has something to do with whatever function they’re given. They certainly don’t seem to have any will of their own, but how do you give orders to a non-functioning mind? ...Oh, they’re also dead, as mentioned earlier, so they don’t have a pulse or anything.”

So the AI had puppet corpses at its disposal too. Just wonderful. Hatchet found herself completely unsurprised by this revelation. She knew more than well enough that it didn’t have any sense of morals. She might be angry, coarse, black-hearted, whatever anyone wanted to describe her as, but at least she _had_ a heart. That thing didn’t. She almost wished it _did,_ if only so she could tear it out herself. But no, it was a guiltless, lifeless abomination. No empathy, no care for what it inflicted. No regret, no remorse for how it twisted and broke things. No conscience, no likelihood of it ever recognising how vile it was. No senses - no _pain._

No chance for any _justice._

She hated it with every fibre of her being.

Nothing was going to stop her from hunting it down and wiping every last trace of it from this world. Even if she had to cooperate with these fools, she _would_ take any measure of revenge she could. Any avenue available to get any kind of payback for her misery, she would pursue without pause.

She could feel the seething anger coursing through her, and her vision just barely began to cloud around the edges. She shook her head, forcing the resentful snarl on her lips down. This wasn’t the time to lose her focus. She felt twitchy, restless. Curling in on herself, she tried to even her breathing and attain some level of calm before they arrived.

When the helicopter touched down, she didn’t feel any different. She got out as soon as she was able, grabbing an ink tank from the helicopter before she went and pulling her claw gloves from a deep pocket, putting them on and connecting them up. There was a burning energy in her that was demanding to be let out, a destructive desire to break something. Anything.

The helicopter had landed in a clearing. Their surroundings were forested, grass and dusty dirt beneath them and bushes and trees around. She could vaguely hear behind her the others getting out and Marina explaining the coordinates for the place were a little further north, but she was already striding away. Once there was some distance between herself and the group, she looked around at the vegetation, settling on a bunch of ferns growing tall, higher than her waist. Reaching down to where the stems protruded from the ground, she grabbed a large handful of them and yanked. They didn’t give, and she pulled, hard, with both hands. She didn’t really care if they uprooted or not. Anything to let loose this restless energy.

She kept on pulling, and felt as the plants began to move with her, and a satisfying juddering feeling accompanied the chunk of earth that burst free along with the plants’ roots. She almost fell backwards as the resistance to her pulling suddenly stopped, just about maintaining her balance. Breathing out a heavy huff, she tossed the ferns aside. The friction between the stems and her hands had left her palms and the insides of her fingers slightly sore in the spots that weren’t protected by her gloves. That combined with the effort and subsequent result of pulling it up helped relieve the ache within her, quelling it. Feeling better, she went back to the others.

“What were you doing?” Peppermint asked curiously, now holding a tenta brella.

“Nothing relevant,” she replied. “Which way?”

“That-a-ways,” Pearl said, gesturing dramatically. The way she pointed only led to more foliage as far as anyone could see for now. “Rina reckons we’re maybe a few hundred metres off.”

Hatchet headed off in the direction she’d indicated, hoping the entrance to this test centre wasn’t hidden in a tree again. There were significantly more of them here, checking them all would be a real ordeal. Though few of them were thick enough in the trunk to contain a lift like the last one…

The undergrowth was difficult, but her boots and cargo pants were both thick and protective, and she pushed through relatively unhindered. Peppermint wore similarly hardy layers and kept up without difficulty, but the others seemed to lag behind. Resultantly, Peppermint ended up straying back to keep pace with Badger anyway, and Hatchet was left alone at the head of the group. The dense foliage was stirring up vague memories. Stumbling barefoot through tangling plantlife with stones and uneven ground bruising her feet, thorns and spiny vines cutting her legs. She didn’t remember where. Somewhere in the vacant part of her memories between when she escaped and when she had found the city and worked out how to survive there. None of this looked distinctly familiar to her, though, so she dismissed it.

As she moved forwards, she began to see a small building ahead amongst the trees, only the size of a shed. It didn’t look particularly cared for, with vines and moss growing up the walls, but as she approached it and looked around, she found a door that wasn’t particularly overgrown compared to the rest of it. On it was a sign warning away unlicensed entry along with a familiar circular blue logo. Kamabo.

 _So convenient of it to mark its territory for us._ Hatchet stalked around the building, looking up at its walls. No sign of any security cameras. Good. The longer it didn’t know they were here, the better. Ideally they’d take it out without it ever knowing in the first place. Going back to the door and looking the way she’d come, she spotted the others, Peppermint and Badger the closest with Marina and Pearl just a little ways behind them. Leaning on the wall, she waited for them to catch up.

“Reckon this is the place,” she said as Peppermint and Badger arrived, gesturing at the logo on the door.

“Oh, that’s like Eight’s hat,” Badger said upon seeing it, a roller propped up over their shoulder. “Guess so.”

What a completely pointless comment. Hatchet rolled her eyes. Testing the door, it was locked. Unsurprisingly. She pulled the crowbar from her back pocket as Pearl and Marina caught up, tearing the door open.

“Woah. Is this where we’re lookin’ for?” Pearl asked.

“Seems it,” Badger replied, pointing at the logo on the door. “Are we doing same as last time with you two staying here with Marina ready to get hacking?”

The octoling in question had her laptop in hand and was already tapping away at it. “I’m already picking up on something. Before I do anything, let’s think about how we’ll proceed. As soon as I start trying to get in its system it’s going to know we’re here.”

“How’s this: we go in, I use the EMP, it’s fucked. Done,” Hatchet said shortly, going through the doorway and checking the corners for any cameras. None. Inside was a staircase leading down. “No lift. Apparently it decided to go old-fashioned with this one. All the better for us, it can’t try and trap us by cutting off the power.”

“Wait a minute,” Marina said, audibly annoyed. “Don’t just go ahead on your own. What about if the EMP wears off before you’re done like last time?”

“Then I’ll use it again. Last time the generator just ran out of charge. This time it’s definitely at full juice,” Hatchet replied exasperatedly. She had _already explained this._ Maybe not today, maybe she couldn’t remember who to, but she definitely had. “If you can see what’s active from your laptop there then you’ll _know_ if it’s working or not. If the thing’s systems are online, ball’s in your park. If not, my shit’s still working.”

She paused only briefly, but didn’t hear a response, so started on her way down the stairs. The rail was old and dusty, but she ignored it anyway, instead prying the chunky generator free of her pocket as she went. Twisting the dials on it to the maximum output, she pulled out the mess of wires and components, the magnetron hanging down loosely. Connecting it up, she stopped as she neared the bottom of the stairs. Not much light filtered from the open door down the stairway, but the white door in front of them was unmistakably familiar, much the same as the front door of the test centre beneath the Deepsea Metro. If it worked the same way as that one, it would have a sensor of some kind that made it open when approached - and if it had a sensor that picked up on them, then the AI would know it had uninvited guests.

Glancing behind her, Peppermint and Badger were following. Pearl was visible at the top of the stairs, looking down at how far it went before going back outside. When Peppermint saw her look back, she spoke up.

“Don’t do the EMP just yet. Marina needs to be sure her laptop won’t end up affected by it too.”

Hatchet scowled, leaning back against the wall, still on the stairwell. As the others neared, she stopped them from passing her.

“Don’t go on the floor. If it’s one of those doors that open when you go near, then getting too close will tell the thing we’re here.”

Peppermint nodded in understanding, waiting on the step above Hatchet.

“They gonna tell us when we’re good to go or what?” Hatchet muttered sullenly, staring back up the stairwell.

“Pearl will come and let us know, I think,” Peppermint said softly, but there was a tenseness in her voice.

 _Ugh. Why can’t I just do this on my own?_ Hatchet huffed as she waited, bored. She glanced up the stairs at the others. Badger had gone further up slightly.

“Look, Pep, I’m taller than you,” they said, grinning. They’d had to go multiple steps above Peppermint to make the statement true. Peppermint giggled slightly.

“For once,” she replied.

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get,” Badger said, reaching out to ruffle Peppermint’s hair. She leaned into their touch, smiling and looking a little more relaxed.

Hatchet rolled her eyes, looking away. _Saps._ She stared at the opposite wall until she heard Pearl yell down at them.

“Okay, you’re good to go!” came the inkling’s unnecessarily loud voice.

Hatchet shook her head exasperatedly. If there was any kind of sensor that detected noise, it probably wouldn’t have missed that. Pulling her phone out and lighting up the screen, she wasted no time in flicking the switch on her generator. The display on her phone immediately fizzled and died, proving it had worked. Satisfied, Hatchet disconnected the pieces and stuffed them in her pockets again before finally stepping down onto the little landing before the white doors.

Peppermint and Badger followed, and the door didn’t react to their approach. Hatchet grabbed her crowbar and forced them apart, and a corridor stretched before them, unlit and soon obscured by the inky blackness. Swapping the crowbar for her torch, Hatchet headed in. Even dark as it was, the place still seemed familiar, if only due to how identical these facilities all seemed to be. Evidently, if you’d seen one, you’d seen them all.

The others apparently hadn’t thought to get actual torches, as they didn’t produce any. Badger was fool enough to try their phone despite having been right next to her as the EMP went off. _Idiot._ Hatchet didn’t care to waste time in these places, striding right in and tearing doors open with her crowbar. A quick sweep of the torch in each room, just enough to confirm the presence or lack of a computer, then moving swiftly onwards. Badger and Peppermint silently followed, seemingly happy to let her take the lead. _Fine with me._ At one point Hatchet had glanced back with the torch just to check they weren’t dawdling, and while she hadn’t exactly been looking closely, from the brief light she did cast on them she was sure they were holding hands.

They proceeded through the empty hallways quickly. Hatchet paused only when she thought she heard something, stopping to listen. Peppermint and Badger almost bumped into her, having kept up with her closely to stay near the sole light source.

“Hey, why’re we stopping?” Badger asked.

“Shut up,” Hatchet hissed, straining to hear. It was faint, distant, but it was definitely there. “Listen.”

“...What is that?” Peppermint asked quietly.

The sound was too far away, too obscure. “Not sure,” Hatchet muttered. She walked forwards slowly, trying to keep her movement as quiet as possible to keep listening to the sound as she went. The three of them continued tentatively, drawing nearer to the source of the noise. As they did, it gradually became clearer, rising and falling in volume and pitch at irregular intervals.

“I think it’s… someone crying?” Badger said tentatively. Now that they suggested it, that did seem accurate.

“Is it… another ‘subject one’?” Peppermint wondered aloud.

Hatchet said nothing, moving a little faster. The closer they got to the noise, the more obvious it was. The fearful cries made her… uncomfortable.

“It sounds like a kid,” Badger said.

After a little more walking, they found the source of the noise. Hatchet put her ear up against the door just to be sure. The wailing and sobbing definitely came from the other side of it. Saying nothing, she pried the mechanised door open with the crowbar, trying not to make the noise of her actions too sudden. Clearly whoever was on the other side heard regardless, and suddenly the crying was subdued, stifled. Once the door was open, Hatchet glanced at the others, offering them the torch. Crying people were pretty far from being her forté.

Peppermint stared down at it uncertainly. An awkward moment passed before Badger took it, stepping into the room and searching it with the light.

“Um, hi,” they said quietly, the torchlight resting on a young child. They couldn’t have been very old, the surface of their body still more ink than skin and their limbs only just beginning to have definition. “Hi. Um, my name’s Badger. Are you scared?”

The child sniffled, nodding.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Badger said reassuringly, crouching down. “Is it the dark that’s scary?”

They nodded again. “Y-yeah,” they blubbered.

“I’ve got a light here, right? Why don’t you come with us?” Badger said gently, offering their free hand out. “We’re just having a look around for something and then we’ll be going back outside, and there’s plenty of light out there.”

The child stared at their hand for a long moment, still sniffling. “...It won’t be dark?”

“Yeah. It won’t be dark,” Badger replied softly.

“...Okay,” they eventually said, hiccuping as they put one globby limb in Badger’s hand, still more tentacle than arm.

“There you go,” Badger said, slowly standing again and leading the child back over to the others. “It’ll be alright, yeah?” They used the torch to light up Peppermint and Hatchet briefly. “This is Peppermint, and that’s Hatchet. We’re gonna make sure nothing bad happens in the dark, okay?”

“Okay,” the child said, sounding a little more confident.

“I think we should get the kid outside before anything else,” Badger said, giving the torch back.

“Sure,” Hatchet agreed quietly. _They’d just get in the way anyway._ Flashing the light back towards the way they’d come, she walked quickly. She felt sick again. Shaky. _I want this over and done with._

“Slow down, they’re not gonna be able to walk that fast,” Badger said. They leaned down again, addressing the child. “Hey, would it be okay with you if I picked you up? That way we can get out of the dark sooner.”

“Um… Okay. I don’t like the dark,” they mumbled.

Badger handed their roller to Peppermint, then gently lifted them up, resting the bulk of the child’s weight on their hip. “Is that okay?”

“...Yeah.”

The three of them - well, four of them now - hurried back to the entrance. On the way Badger quietly spoke to the new addition, asking about what was here, and more importantly if anyone else was here. Apparently there wasn’t. As soon as they reached the stairs, Badger hurried up them, and Hatchet immediately turned to go back in.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to wait?” Peppermint asked.

“No. I want this over already,” Hatchet replied tersely. How long had it been since she used the EMP? It might be worth refreshing its effect. “Tell them I’m using the EMP again.” Torch in hand, she stalked away.

She heard Peppermint call the message up the stairs then run to catch up with her. Hatchet gripped the torch between her teeth as she pulled out the generator and components again, connecting them and flipping the switch once more. That awful nausea had risen rapidly, and she most assuredly did _not_ want to have to deal with whatever infuriating garbage that AI would spout if it was given the chance. Stalking back through the corridors, she tore open doors until she found what she was after, Peppermint tentatively following behind.

The monitor was blocked off by a glass screen again, and the computer itself embedded in the wall. Hatchet handed the torch to Peppermint to hold as she made quick work of the screen. It was a lot easier to do when not being shot in the back halfway through. Clearing the glass, she used the crowbar to pry the wall panel off. It was stubborn and well attached, and didn’t give easily, but with a little persistence, she managed. Yanking it off completely, she hauled the computer out into the open and tore it apart with the crowbar. She may not know much about the things, but she knew the hard drive was the most vital thing to smash. She wasn’t sure what piece the hard drive _was_ , exactly, so she just made sure to leave every aspect of it that showed circuit boards in a broken useless mess, torn away from the power source and shattered. Any piece that looked like it contributed to the whole was left as damaged as possible. The extent of the damage was probably gratuitous, but better safe than sorry - and it felt good, too. Only when she was satisfied that the thing was completely busted did she turn to leave.

She couldn’t see Peppermint’s expression in the dark, couldn’t read what she was thinking as she handed the torch back, but she was silent for their trip back to the surface. Even with the task completed, the nauseous feeling remained, and it somehow didn’t feel like a victory. Sure, it was one more of these hellholes ticked off the list, but… Hatchet felt tired as she reached the top of the stairs and stepped back out into the waning sunlight.

“You’re back. Is it done?” Marina asked.

Hatchet nodded. “That PC’s about as busted as it gets.”

“Where’s… the person?” Peppermint asked.

Marina pointed to the woods, where Badger and Pearl were with the child, exploring the trees and plants. “If it’s taken care of, there’s no need to stick around. Let’s get back to the helicopter.”

Suddenly feeling drained, Hatchet had no reason to disagree. Making her way back to the clearing, she wanted nothing more than to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone with (very reasonable) concerns about the fic having a csa tag and then v quickly introducing a young child, i'll say right now that none of that happens to this kid. also i proofread at like 2am so uhhhh hopefully its fine but if there are errors that'll be why


	3. Isolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing in particular for this chapter, just usual hatchet

Hatchet didn’t walk quite so purposefully on the way back, but the others in their group seemed to be busy taking care of the new kid, so she was still the first to arrive at the helicopter. Tired, she got in and sat back down in the corner, closing her eyes while she waited. She didn’t really want to fall asleep - well, she never did - but she felt fairly certain the others would be noisy enough to prevent that once they were here anyway.

Soon enough, the rest of them piled in. She was acutely aware that someone had chosen to sit next to her, hearing them close by. Irritably cracking an eye open, she looked over. Peppermint. The taller experiment was watching everyone else getting in, but glanced down, noticing Hatchet had seen her.

“Are you… okay…?” Peppermint asked tentatively.

“Fine,” Hatchet growled.

“Are you?” Peppermint repeated dubiously.

“Fuck off, Peppermint,” Hatchet warned.

“Okay, but… Um… I’m here.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Hatchet said dryly.

“No, I mean…” Peppermint paused, searching for the words she needed. “You’re not alone.” Presumably to try and emphasise her words, she put one hand on Hatchet’s shoulder.

Hatchet stiffened, growling. _Liar._ She shrugged the hand off her, too tired to swipe at it. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Peppermint withdrew, but the look on her face was still there. Those stupid, naive eyes trying to convince her she cared. Hatchet glared at her as that awful nausea intensified within her, her hands moving to habitually scratch at her arms. The vicious stare seemed to get the point across, and Peppermint looked away, but didn’t move. Drawing herself further into the corner, Hatchet closed her eyes again.

Not alone. What a farce. She knew there was no point saying anything in response to that - Peppermint would just blindly disagree with her, the huge sap - but it didn’t change that it was just outright wrong. She had always been alone. Not just at the test centre - even after she escaped, people avoided her, whether due to her appearance, her behaviour, whatever. Never had anyone _wanted_ anything to do with her. No-one ever cared to speak to her, just whisper behind her back. No-one helped her. She was an outcast, isolated and alone. She knew that. People didn’t care about her. People weren’t there for her - that had always been true. There was no reason it would change now.

Tired and pointedly ignoring the distracting bubble of noise growing around her as the helicopter took off, she was drawn out of her thoughts by Peppermint speaking to her again.

“Hatchet… Um… Have you noticed?” she asked.

Hatchet opened her eyes again, looking coldly up at her. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

Peppermint looked over at the child, sat on the other side of the helicopter with Pearl and looking around the thing. “I’m not sure if they’re the same as us.”

Hatchet followed her gaze, glancing over the kid. It was hard to discern any distinguishable features aside from the ink colour being a soft sandy brown, their limbs and hair still lacking distinct form.

“What am I meant to be looking at?” Hatchet asked tiredly. _And why should I care?_

“The eyes…”

Hatchet looked at the eyes in question. They looked pretty normal, much the same as anyone else’s, aside from the markings around them, patchy and struggling to meet in the middle as her own and Peppermint’s did. Hatchet’s gaze narrowed as realisation dawned.

“Aren’t black.”

“Mmm.”

“So what, they’re some other kind of experiment? Lucky them,” Hatchet muttered acerbically.

“I’m not sure…” Peppermint said, trailing off. “It’s hard to say when we can’t tell if the skin is like ours or not too…”

“Why would _that_ matter?”

“Um…” Suddenly Peppermint wore that same look as on the way here, that uncomfortable avoidance when it seemed like everyone was hiding something from her. “From what I read about how we were made… There was a preservative added to the biological matter to prevent rotting that caused the, um, colour of our eyes and the green skin, as a side effect. So if their eyes aren't like that then the reasonable assumuption is to think that preservative wasn't involved... But I can’t work out how it would work without that. Or how _any_ of its attempts would work without it.”

Hatchet turned away, disinterested. She didn’t know or care about the details of how the thing created them. She definitely didn’t have any interest in knowing how this child was made. She was tired and felt sick and didn’t want to be around any of these people. She wanted to be alone. Marina was talking about how things went, but she wasn’t listening, too focused on her own discomfort. Something about going back to check there definitely wasn’t anything active after the EMP wore off, and then some discussions about who would take care of the child. Her attention was demanded when they addressed her about it.

“What about you, Hatchet?”

She reluctantly turned to look up at Marina. “What?”

Marina sighed slightly. “Have you even been listening? Someone’s going to have to take care of her. Would you be able to?”

Hatchet stared incredulously. That was just about the stupidest question she’d ever heard. “No.” The effort to keep it to a simple answer without snapping or being condescending was excruciating. _Do I fucking look like a good candidate for being any kind of parental figure to you?_ Even if she had a proper home, she most certainly did not have the patience or time or resources for taking care of anyone. Hell, she barely scraped by herself. She doubted the kid needed any extra stress from being woken up by screaming in the night, either.

Marina didn’t seem happy with the look she gave her, but accepted the brief reply regardless. “Right… we’ll work something out.”

Hatchet zoned out again, tired. She ignored their chattering for the rest of the journey, more than happy to get out of the noisy vehicle again as soon as they landed back in Inkopolis. Much as she’d like to just leave without a word, she supposed she should at least find out if there were any more plans. She didn’t want to be left out if they were going to destroy the AI. But right now… Right now she just wanted to be alone.

“What next?” she asked, struggling to prevent her eyes from drooping.

“I’ll make sure that site is definitely inactive, and see what I can learn from the little data I got before the EMP went off,” Marina replied.

“Ya look like you need a rest. I can get bein’ eager and all, but can’t do much if you ain’t got the energy,” Pearl said.

“Congratulations on having a functional set of eyes,” Hatchet said dryly, giving her a thoroughly unimpressed glare. “Just tell me if you know when you’re doing stuff next.”

“No need to be a prick about it, _cod,_ ” Pearl muttered.

“We’ll decide on a plan once we’ve looked through what we know. I’d like to talk to more of the others, too,” Marina said.

“So no, then.” Tired, Hatchet began walking away. Whatever. She’d just have to drop by Ammo Knights and find out from Peppermint. At least she was easy enough to find.

If any of them said anything to her as she left, she wasn’t paying enough attention to hear. Lacking in energy, she wished she hadn’t had to empty her pockets of snacks to fit her equipment in. Something to keep her going until she got back home would be ideal. Making her way back out of the city, she trudged along, pulling her hood up as she walked. As soon as she made it back to the warehouse she wriggled her way back through the hole in the wall, ready to plop down on the beanbag. She hated having to sleep, and it was still early, but she was so exhausted. She didn’t understand what had brought it on so suddenly. Maybe it was just her general lack of proper rest catching up with her. In any case, she couldn’t stay awake, miserably anticipating whatever vile nightmares she would have to deal with as her mind drifted away from consciousness.

* * *

The next few days passed as normal for Hatchet. She went to check if there was any update on dealing with the AI from Peppermint, but there didn’t seem to be any new plan as of yet. It was another boring day when she was sat on her beanbag, having come back from the dump to get food and lingering for a while. She was bouncing the tennis ball against the wall when her ears picked up on something and she stopped to listen.

The noise came from the hole in the wall. Was someone outside? Her question was soon answered when an unfamiliar form made its way in. Quickly standing again, Hatchet recognised her as the girl from that first facility they'd all met at.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” Hatchet growled, putting the tennis ball away.

She jumped slightly at the sound, turning rapidly. “Oh! It's you!” She paused where she stood, looking over at Hatchet and the vaguely organised mess of stuff on the floor around her. “Do you… live here?”

“None of your fucking business. Get out,” Hatchet snapped.

“I was only having a look around,” she said evenly. “Is all this stuff yours?”

“Which part of 'get out' did you miss?” Hatchet glared territorially, advancing on the younger girl. Had Peppermint mentioned any name of hers? Hatchet felt like she had, but didn’t remember what it was if so.

“Alright, alright,” the girl said, backing up against the wall, hands raised in surrender. She didn’t seem particularly fazed, just calmly accepting of the situation, and it irked Hatchet. “I was just taking a peek, I’ll leave you alone.”

True to her word, she shrank down and slipped through the hole, seeming to fit through a little more easily than Hatchet did. She was the shortest of the lab rats, the only one with a fairly average height compared to the inklings and octolings about. Then again, she didn’t seem fully grown yet, looking to be in her mid teens, so she might still end up taller later. She was already taller than that shrimp Badger, who wasn’t really that much of a shorty by inkling standards.

Hatchet glared at the space she’d occupied for a while, waiting until she was sure she wasn’t coming back before sitting back down. _Annoying._ She didn’t want any of those nosy prats knowing about this place. If the rest of them were like Peppermint, they’d be sure to pry in where they didn’t belong. The whole point of this place - aside from being somewhere dry and sheltered to stay - was it being somewhere quiet where she could be alone. That would probably be out the window now. She didn’t trust the kid not to go and blab about it.

“Just fucking wonderful,” she muttered to herself, getting the tennis ball back out and hurling it as hard as she could at the far wall. It went an impressive distance, managing to only hit the ground once as it crossed the length of the warehouse before hitting the back wall and bouncing back. Irritable, she crossed to where its path lead it as it lost its height, eventually unable to stay off the ground and rolling back to her. She repeated the action, throwing her frustration out with the ball over and over. When the vigor put into each throw began to make her arm sore, she stopped, pocketing the ball and sitting on the beanbag, still in a foul mood. She didn’t stay down for long. Annoyed, she felt restless, and figured she may as well put the energy towards gathering more scrap. Grabbing a couple of snacks to stuff in her pockets, she could see she was running low. Great. One more thing to make her day worse. Maybe if she was lucky she’d find a chunky component of rarer metals. Copper went for a lot more than plain old iron and steel did.

Heading back outside, she stood after wriggling through the hole in the wall and began walking to the dump. She had barely gone a few metres when she saw the girl from previously again, sat under a tree reading a book.

“I thought I told you to get lost,” she snarled.

The girl must have been quite absorbed in her reading, as she jumped at the noise. “You said to leave, so I left,” she said, looking around. “This isn’t in there though, this is a public space. It’s not like I’m doing anything, I’m just reading…”

 _Snooping, more like,_ Hatchet thought suspiciously. Looking out at how the sun had already passed its peak in the sky, she growled. _I don’t have time for this stupid mess._ “Don’t go getting any ideas. You stay the hell outta there, got that?”

“Where are you headed?”

“None of your _cod-damn business_ ,” Hatchet said with an exasperated sigh. “Just leave me the fuck alone. And that includes my stuff.”

“Alright,” she said, turning back to her book. “Was busy reading anyway.”

Hatchet glared at her for a moment, but she stayed where she was, sat under the tree slowly turning the pages. When it seemed she would stick to her word and not go inside - while being watched, at least - Hatchet went on her way, hastened to the dump by the necessity of getting more food along with the irritable energy of her bad mood.

* * *

Reaching the end of her book, Lavender closed it, stretching. She’d only borrowed it from the library that morning, but it had been enthralling. Getting to read about all the characters and their wonderful settings, the way they developed along their adventure, how they made friends and handled their opposition, it was all completely fascinating. She’d read a good chunk of it in the library itself before deciding she’d wanted to go outside and enjoy the sun for a while, only to end up distracted by her wandering and getting pretty far from the city centre. She remembered the way she’d come from, though, and there were always signs towards the lobby, so she wasn’t too worried about it. It had been completely by chance that her exploring led to Hatchet.

When she’d said before that she was going to read and agreed to stay out, she had meant it. At the time, she had still only been halfway through the story and was eager to finish it, after all. Now, though… She found herself curious. She knew she shouldn’t pry, especially when Hatchet had made such a display of how much she wanted her privacy. When she had stepped in for those precious few moments, it hadn’t looked like there was all that much to see anyway. Lavender had seen a beanbag, some scattered wrappers, that was about it. But even so…

How long had it been since Hatchet left and went wherever she was going? Long enough that she probably wouldn’t still be watching if she’d chosen to see if Lavender would keep her word. How long would it have taken her to read the last eighty pages or so? She wasn’t sure.

Undecided, Lavender stared at the little hole in the wall of the large building. She really wanted to go have a nose inside. Should she, shouldn’t she? Hmmm.

Lavender found herself not entirely sure what to do with regards to Hatchet in general. It was obvious that _something_ was up - Lavender had seen herself the unbridled fury she’d directed at the AI before, heard her words and the implications behind them. There was some burden she was still carrying, but from what Peppermint had said, it didn’t seem like she was willing to accept help. Or maybe she didn’t know how. Regardless of the finer details, it was clear that any attempt to try and help her was a delicate situation, and one wrong move would lead to being pushed away.

Lavender drummed her fingers on the back of the closed book, trying to reach a conclusion. She certainly did _want_ to help Hatchet - she was part of the reason for Lavender getting to be here enjoying everything the world had to offer, after all. Lavender was grateful to her, along with the others. If it hadn’t been for them, she’d never get to play turf war, never get to feel the sun on her skin, never get to enjoy spending time with friends. There were so many good things she got to experience now, so much happiness to be had. Yet, despite having the same access to the world at large, Hatchet didn’t seem to get any of that. Not once had Lavender seen her smile, never heard anyone mention her in anything other than a bad mood.

Yes, Lavender definitely _wanted_ to help her. The question was - how?

 _Well, I suppose I can start by respecting her boundaries…_ Sighing, Lavender stood with her book, turning away from the warehouse and heading back to the city centre. 


	4. Small change

The sun rose the next morning to see Hatchet already at the dump, poking through the scrap. She hadn't managed to find much of worth yesterday, and after dinner and breakfast her food supplies were sorely in need of restocking. If she didn't find anything of value soon, she'd be in a tight spot. Sure, she could go to the market again, but fruit alone was not particularly sustaining. Getting that latte had been a mistake, she needed that money for _food._

Spending another hour going through the rubbish, she didn't find anything significant enough to be worth taking. Frustrated, she kicked at the debris along the way as she moved away from the heap she’d been rooting through. The breakfast she had eaten was sparse, trying to reserve what she had left, but hunger was already starting to rise, and the stress of the situation brought accompanying nausea.

 _Ugh. I need to eat before this gets unbearable._ Dissatisfied and irritable, Hatchet left the dump, heading to the market. She had enough money to afford the cheapest fruit, at least. She tried to wave off the irritation, or at least keep the scowl off her face. People tended to be more suspicious of someone obviously in a bad mood, she had learned. _Annoyingly._

Finding her way to the fruit stand, she repeated the same routine as before, nabbing an extra apple when the seller's back was turned. She gave her usual muttered thanks and was about to walk away when the inkling spoke up in a rich voice, her words distorted in a thick working class accent.

"Ya ain't slick, ya know."

 _Ahh, shit._ Hatchet looked over at her, frozen in place momentarily. "What do you mean?" she bluffed.

"Don't gimme that bull," the bespectacled woman said, sighing. "Listen, I can see from lookin' atcha that you ain't in a great spot, so I turned a blind eye. But if ya wanna earn yer keep, ya can 'elp out on the stand. Can't pay ya properly, I don't get enough outta this gig, but do a couple hours once a week 'n I'll let ya take whatever ya need - and not turn ya over to security. How'sat fer a deal?"

Hatchet was mentally debating whether or not to bolt, but stared at her, suspicious. That sounded far too favourable for her. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. I need t'get as much outta this produce 's I can while it’s fresh, if I get ya kicked out then that's just one less customer whereas this way I still get somethin' out of it. Busy times're a right 'assle 'n I can't afford to 'ire anyone, but I can offer this," she said, gesturing at the boxes of fruit. "You need food, I need an extra set 'f 'ands on busy weekends. Ain't no reason we can't work that out for th' both of us."

Hatchet paused, unsure. That did sound pretty reasonable - something mutually beneficial, so not like this stranger was just trying to get on her good side or anything. No ulterior motives, just business. Presumably. And the alternative was getting kicked out of her backup food supply, so she didn't really have that much choice in the matter. "...Alright," she agreed. She was still a little suspicious, but she could just keep an eye open.

"Smart call," the inkling said, putting her hand out. "Name's Phoebe."

"Hatchet," Hatchet replied, shaking her hand briefly.

"So now we got that sorted. Take what ya need, then show up on Saturdays 'round lunchtime. Any time between eleven am 'n two pm is the busiest times," Phoebe said.

Hatchet nodded, turning to leave.

"Oi, I said take what ya need, didn't I?"

Hatchet looked back at her, and Phoebe gestured at the boxes of fruit again.

"Might as well at least take enough to get yer five a day. I'd guess yer diet's not gonna be great."

Distrustful, Hatchet watched her warily for a moment, but she didn't do anything. Phoebe just leaned back against a table behind her. "Go on, don't be shy."

Tentatively, Hatchet went to a box of pears, taking one. She wasn't really sure what she was expecting Phoebe to do, but whatever it was, she didn't do it. She was still casually leaning back, half sat on the table. Pocketing the pear along with the apple and banana she already had, she picked up a tangerine and a kiwi. Not sure what to think, she watched Phoebe cautiously as she stepped back.

"Cod, anyone’d think I 'ad a knife atcher throat or somethin'," she said. "If that's all yer takin', I'll see ya tomorrow."

Nodding a quick goodbye, Hatchet stiffly walked away, hasty to be out of whatever weird situation that was. That… was certainly something. Well, if she was getting food out of it, that was what mattered… Even if she didn't really trust this stranger and if the work probably involved talking to people - and having to keep her mood in check, if her understanding of customer facing roles was anything to go by. _Ugh._

Wait. Tomorrow? Was it a Friday? Having not checked any time recently, Hatchet wasn’t sure, but her phone confirmed it. Eating some of the fruit as she headed back to the dump, she wasn’t sure if that was annoying or not. Having to work and deal with people was definitely a pain, but getting a steady food supply, even if only for fruit, was undoubtedly a good thing. It also meant all the money she did get she could put towards starchier sustenance. Overall, this was a pretty good deal for her - she just had to put up with idiots and try not to glare at them too much for a while every weekend for it. If this worked out, then it would be at least a little bit of weight off her mind.

Heading back to the dump, she settled back into the routine of sorting through the scrap, looking for the solid pieces of metal that would sell decently. With less hunger to distract her and a slightly better mood to boot, the work felt like it went by smoother as she picked through it all. When the afternoon drew to a close, she'd found a fair bit, and taking it to the scrapyard nearby got her enough for her efforts to buy more food, getting a box of cereal and some oat bars. Hopefully that, along with the now-free supply of fruit, would get her through the weekend.

* * *

The next day, Hatchet made her way somewhat reluctantly to the farmer’s market. She’d slept about as much as usual and eaten breakfast, but she felt a little apprehensive, not sure what to expect. She never willingly dealt with people, and it didn’t seem like an appealing prospect. Deliberately walking into any crowded place was very much _not_ within her nature, but as Phoebe had said, when she arrived at the market a little before midday it was fairly packed. As far as she was concerned, crowds were good for one thing and one thing only - distracting people. No-one noticed what any one specific person was doing when there were so many to focus on. That wasn’t what she was here for today, though. For once.

Winding her way through the throng to the fruit stand, there were already a fair few people queuing up at it, and Phoebe was weighing out strawberries. Distrustful and uncertain, Hatchet made her way to the front of the people standing by the stall, not sure what to do. Once Phoebe looked up to finish the transaction, she spotted Hatchet, quickly gesturing for her to come round to her side of the stand.

“Whatcha doin’ over there? Get ‘ere n ‘elp. You weigh, I’ll do the maths,” she said, pointing Hatchet at the scales as soon as she had joined her. “Whatever people’re buyin’, tell me what it is an’ ‘ow much by weight.”

Hatchet grunted in acknowledgement, moving to where the scales were. Reluctantly looking out at the people waiting, she glanced at the nearest, a young octoling clutching an armful of different things. Setting each of the different fruits on the scales, she relayed the information to Phoebe.

“That’s… four-seventy grams of bananas... two-thirty of orange. One-fourty of apple.”

“Um, may I also have… um… three hundred of these?” the octoling said, pointing to the strawberries.

Phoebe seemed to have kept her ear out, hearing. “Paper bags under the scales,” she said, typing at a calculator. Hatchet picked one up, setting it on the scales and filling it with strawberries until it displayed around three hundred grams. Phoebe told the octoling the total price and handled the cash exchange while Hatchet measured things out, and the steady stream of customers didn’t leave much time for anything else. Eventually the rate of transactions outsped the rate of new customers, and they found a quiet moment.

“Eh, what a rush,” Phoebe said with a sigh. “Ya showed at a good time, sure did get busy. Though I'm wonderin' if gettin' through 'em quicker meant more people stuck around instead'a gettin' bored o' the queue...”

Hatchet didn’t really care to comment, giving a small nod in response. Even just having to weigh things out, it had been surprisingly exhausting - or perhaps just stressful trying to keep up with the crowds.

“Not one fer conversation, are ya?” Phoebe said, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised. Still gotta lay down some ground rules, though.” She looked over at Hatchet meaningfully, laying a hand on the cash tin. “I’m ‘opin’ since ya took me up on the offer ya know a good deal when ya see it and ain’t gonna jeopardize that. Even so, I’ll give ya fair warnin’... If I ever so much as _think_ ya might be stealin’ from me, yer outta ‘ere. Not just the deal’s off, I’ll be tellin’ the security about it and ya won’t be steppin’ foot ‘ere again. I know _exactly_ ‘ow much is meant ta be in ‘ere at any given moment, so I _will_ know if ya try anythin’. Ya got that?”

Hatchet huffed. “I’m not fool enough to try it with someone who’s already caught me in the act.”

“Good. Then we understand each other. On another note, if ya could try an’ look a li’l friendlier, that kinda sour expression tends to drive ‘em away and I _am_ tryin’ ta turn a profit ‘ere.”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes, looking away. “If I were cut out for customer service I’d have a fucking job already.”

“Aight, no need ta snap,” Phoebe said, crossing her arms. “No-one just _naturally_ smiles all the time, y’know. ‘S just a customer service trick, if ya try an’ pick it up, ya can.”

Hatchet said nothing, the scowl still lingering on her face. _I’m already miles out of my comfort zone, I’m not pretending to be happy on top of that._ Further conversation was soon cut off by new customers, and their slight lull in activity ended. Whenever further quiet moments dropped by, Phoebe got out lunch - frequently interrupted by more work, but still - and encouraged Hatchet to help herself to the fruit. Even though that was the point of their deal, Hatchet still felt suspicious of it, but the need for food overrode her cautious nature. The crowds eventually slowed, and when Hatchet checked the time she had somehow already been there for two hours. _Time sure flies when you’re actually busy…_

Phoebe spotted her looking down at the time. “Thanks fer the ‘elp, ‘s been way easier than my usual Saturday, even with ‘ow busy it was. Guess yer time’s up now, though. Least it’s quietened down.”

Feeling a little more confident about taking some of the fruit after having already done so with no consequence, Hatchet picked some up to shove in her pockets. “So… I’m good to come grab stuff whenever I need it?”

“Any time the stall’s open,” Phoebe said with a nod. “If yer ever lookin’ for anythin’ to do, I ain’t gonna turn away the ‘elp. Even if I can’t really pay ya, I can still make it worth yer while.” 

_Hmph. Sure. Like you aren’t just looking for free help._ Hatchet kept her suspicions to herself as she moved back around the stall to the customer side, grabbing a few more fruit that she hadn’t been able to reach from where Phoebe stood. Even if the flow of customers had subsided, there was still enough bustle in the market to earn her ire, and she soon turned to leave.

“See ya later, then,” Phoebe said gruffly.

Hatchet gave a dismissive wave of her hand in response, not turning back. This place was too crowded for comfort, and she wanted out. Weaving her way through the busy mass of people, she left the market hurriedly. Once outside and with a little more space of her own to breathe, she sighed slightly, relieved. That had been bearable, at least. If it was always just a matter of weighing things and leaving the actual speaking to customers to Phoebe that wasn’t too bad. Sure, she’d had to listen to a couple people requesting additional things, but she’d barely had to say a word herself aside from calling out the weights.

Wandering away from the market, she wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of her day. Really, she needed to do something to make some money, but it wasn’t worth going to the dump - even if she found metal scrap, the scrapyard was closed on weekends. She could go and find out if the others had any more plans regarding the AI, but… going to the city centre in the middle of the day on a Saturday was not an appealing thought. Far too crowded and busy. _No thanks._

Making her way to the warehouse again, she didn’t reach a conclusion on her walk there, flopping tiredly on the beanbag and emptying the fruit out of her pockets into an otherwise empty plastic bag. Glancing around, the contents of the warehouse were exactly as she’d left them, as always. It had only been a couple of days since that other lab rat had shown up, but… At least it seemed like she’d kept her nose out so far. Hatchet hadn’t seen any sign of her, in any case. Well, even if she didn’t think of anything to do to make money, there were still things that needed to be done.

Grabbing her one other set of clothes - a fleecy flannel hoodie and a pair of jeans - she folded them up tightly, stuffing them in the sizeable pockets of her cargo pants. The cargo pants were a true lifesaver with just how large and numerous the pockets were, not only having the standard one on each side and two on the back but having four more buttoned ones, two on each leg. They were a size too big for her, and she had to roll up the hem and wear a belt with them, but they were easily her most important possession, allowing her to carry whatever she needed with her and more. They had long since lost the off-white colour they once had, now stained in a browner tint, but they were still valuable and had managed not to develop any holes in their long service, thankfully.

Time for a long walk. She grabbed another apple and an oat bar to snack along the way, then headed further out of the city. She knew her way to a campsite about an hour and a half’s walk away. The place was easy to walk in and out of, and provided showers and sinks for the campers. Even if it took so long to get there, at least she got to feel clean afterwards, and in the temperate waning summer, it wasn’t unpleasant weather. This time of year was far better for it than winter, and even though the warehouse wasn’t exactly any warmer than outside with no heating, it was still dry and shielded her from the biting cold winds. On top of that, in winter it took so much longer for everything to dry afterwards - which in turn only made the cold more unbearable, as she couldn’t layer up as much while things were drying. Summer may be a little too warm sometimes, but it was definitely preferable.

At the campsite, she showered, cleaning herself off. Having no towel to use, she instead used the clothes she’d taken off to dry herself, changing into the clean set. The flannel hoodie was a little warm for summer, but she didn’t have much else to wear, so it would have to do, at least until her shirt dried. Moving to the sink, she filled it with water and some of the soap supplied and washed the clothes she’d been wearing. Really, she knew she should find a way to do this more often, given how discoloured the water became, but with no services publicly available closer to the city and such a long walk here and back, she didn’t have much choice. During the week all her free time was spent at the dump trying to make money, and sure, there were odd occasions where she managed to scrounge up a decent amount and could justify sparing a few hours elsewhere, but those times were rare. Once she was satisfied her clothes were clean - or at the very least didn’t have any smells clinging to them anymore - she wrung them out, letting the sink drain. Without any bag to put them in and with her jeans’ pockets not nearly as spacious as those of the cargo pants, she would just have to carry them back as they were. Vaguely trying to flap out the creases, she folded them, then started on the long walk back to the city.

The afternoon was presumably wearing on by the time she got back to the warehouse, hanging up the clean clothes on the wire she’d managed to put up in one corner. The walls around it were marred with black spot, thick patches of the mould spreading from the corner. She’d learned that the stuff thrived on condensation after looking it up at the library when it first appeared, so there wasn’t much she could do about it - her wet clothes needed to dry _somewhere_. She just made sure it was in the opposite corner to where she actually spent her time here.

Checking the time, it was past 6 pm. Maybe if she went to the park it wouldn’t be too busy. There was a fairly large green park not too far off, still outside of the city centre, and in part of it was a sizable water fountain that more financially stable people liked throwing coins into for some bizarre reason or other. If the place was empty, she could go pick some out… Of course, it was only something she could do occasionally, but it had been a while since the last time. Hopefully more idiots would have tossed their cash for her to grab by now.

It did not appear hopeful when she arrived at the park, a fair number of people still ambling along the pathways. The park was pretty big though, so maybe at the fountain itself it would be quieter. That was the only thing Hatchet didn’t like quite so much about summer - people stayed out for longer. In winter the streets were barer, calmer when everyone stayed inside in the warmth - unless it was near Squidmas, of course, when the city centre became a heaving mass of last-minute shoppers. Generally though, the world was a little quieter in the colder months. Hatchet was thankful for that, since she became more inclined to spend any free time she had at the library where it was heated, and would rather do so with fewer people around.

Nearing the fountain, this part of the park was a little less populated, with only a pair of inklings wandering down the path away from her and an anemone slowly going around, staring down with headphones on. _Good._ Perching on the rim of the fountain, Hatchet scanned the bottom of it, rolling her sleeves up. There were numerous pennies, but she was more interested in the more valuable coins, picking out any glint of silver and fishing them out. Every so often she looked up to see if anyone was coming her way, and on the occasions anyone was coming towards her she would sit and look at the fountain innocuously, trying to give the impression she was just appreciating the design. Hopefully if they noticed the water on her they’d just assume it was for the sake of cooling off or something. In any case, no-one spoke to her, and she slowly rotated around the fountain, nabbing a decent amount of pocket change. Might as well put it to actual use instead of letting it waste away in a water feature.

She left her sleeves rolled up until her arms dried off, walking around the rest of the park. She wasn’t busy anyway, and it was better than doing nothing. She wandered around the grassy patch of nature until she began to tire, which didn’t take too long given she’d already walked to the campsite and back that day. The evening was still young, but she didn’t have much energy to stay outside doing things, so she wandered back to the warehouse.

It had been a fairly decent day at least, getting herself and her clothes cleaned and picking up some more cash even on a weekend. Dealing with Phoebe and her customers hadn’t been too bad. Shoving herself through the gap in the wall and standing, she looked to her beanbag - only to find it occupied. A pair of young green eyes looked up at her, surrounded by sandy brown ink, an incomplete physical form. The kid they’d found at the test centre. Surprised by the invader, an unpleasant feeling rooted in Hatchet’s core. Recovering from the shock quickly, her eye twitched as she growled slightly.

“The hell are _you_ doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone wondering, phoebe's accent is meant to be cockney


	5. Strain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for neglect here since our protag does not understand that u should be nice to small children

Hatchet stared down at the child as she waited for an answer. Twice. _Twice_ her only sanctum had been invaded in this past week. The irritation rising in her was matched only by the uncomfortable nausea rearing its ugly head again.

“What are _you_ doing here?” the kid parroted back.

“I _live here_ ,” Hatchet said, annoyed.

“Oh. Why?”

_Oh my cod. Just fuck off._ Hatchet narrowed her eyes. “Because I do. And I don’t like having anyone else around so get on and _scram_.” Snarling, she stepped closer, and the child whimpered, curling up defensively on the beanbag. _Don’t fucking stay on it, get out!_

“I… I can’t…” she fretted. “I got stuck. And then I panicked, and being scared made it worse, and there’s not much light in here and it’s hard to see, and…” She trailed off worriedly.

_Of fucking course. Stupid kid can’t sort her forms out properly._ Hatchet groaned exasperatedly. “Fine, but as soon as you can, _go away_.”

“But I… don’t know where to go.”

_Weren’t those idiots going to work this out?_ Hatchet frowned. “I thought the rest of them were going to find someone to take care of you.”

“I… They took me somewhere… And there were lots of other kids. But they said I was weird, and… other things. I didn’t like it. So I left.” The young experiment curled in on herself slightly on the beanbag.

_Ugh. Why do I have to deal with this?_ Hatchet sighed irritably. “You got a name?”

“Um… They gave me one, but… I don’t think I like it,” she said.

“So pick a different one,” Hatchet said tiredly.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, whatever you want,” Hatchet replied. She felt sick again, she didn’t want to have to put up with this. Why did she have to be stuck dealing with people so much lately? Annoyed, she listed off whatever few names came to mind. “Sam. Riley. Natalie. Make something up, I don’t know.”

“Oh.” The child looked down thoughtfully for a while. “I like that last one. Nattie.”

“It was Natalie, but sure, whatever. Great. Good job. Now get off my beanbag.” Hatchet walked over, scowling. The kid - Natalie, apparently - didn’t shift.

“Can’t I sit on it too? It’s comfy.”

“No duh, that’s why I have it. And _no_ ,” Hatchet hissed.

“Why not?” This annoying kid had seemingly already gotten over her momentary fear from earlier, completely unfazed now. She shuffled over on the beanbag until she only took up about a third of its surface, as if to prove the possibility of a shared seat.

Hatchet glared at her. _Annoying brat._ “Did you miss the part where I said I don’t like having people around? I don’t want anyone here _at all_ , let alone right next to me.”

“...Is it always that bad?” Nattie asked softly, looking down with a touch of sadness seeping into her tone. “They weren’t nice to me, either…”

Hatchet crossed her arms, huffing as she looked aside. “...I just don’t like people. Quit asking me things.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have any good fu-... good answers,” Hatchet growled.

“But you already gave me one,” Nattie replied. “I like Nattie. Natalie. That’s a good name.”

“Great, so one random thing I said happened to be something you liked. Good for you. Doesn’t mean it’s worth looking to me for answers. Now get outta my seat already.” Hatchet stepped over to the beanbag, annoyed.

Natalie still seemed reluctant to move, but slowly shifted off. As soon as it was unoccupied Hatchet crashed down on it, the air in it puffing out. She sighed, tired. She still felt nauseous, ignoring the hunger beginning to rise beneath it. Rolling over, she just wanted to rest. Alone.

Sadly, that was not an option for her right now. Nattie looked around, picking up the blanket and dragging it over to the beanbag, sitting down on it next to Hatchet.

“Why are you green?”

_Oh my cod, leave me alone._ “I don’t know, or care.”

“The other people I’ve met aren’t green. It was only you and that other one person. Peppermint.”

“Good for you.”

Nattie fidgeted, settling on the blanket. “It smells weird in here.”

Hatchet rolled her eyes. “Can you go away yet?”

Nattie looked aside, a guilty expression on her face. “...I don’t want to.”

“Why the hell would you want to stay here?” Hatchet growled.

“It’s quieter here.”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes irritably. _Why can’t you have been a sociable person instead so I can catch a break?_ She could understand preferring quiet, though, even if she wished she didn’t have to put up with this. “...Could be quieter,” she muttered sullenly.

Maybe Nattie didn’t catch the implications behind Hatchet’s words, or maybe she just didn’t care, but either way she spoke up again after a moment of contemplation. “I’m not used to people. I don’t get why people say certain things or what I’m meant to say back. I don’t understand.”

_Please shut up._ Irritable, Hatchet thought about what to do with this brat. Whatever plan the others had come up with for her clearly wasn’t working out, if she’d already run away. It still was absolutely out of the question for her to stay with Hatchet - a decrepit mouldy old warehouse was frankly unsuitable for anyone, let alone a growing child, and that was all Hatchet had to offer. She would just have to take her to Peppermint and dump her on the rest of them to deal with.

It occurred to her that with how late in the day it was, the shops would not be open. Hatchet didn’t know where to find anyone outside of Peppermint when she was at Ammo Knights. And with tomorrow being a Sunday, she wouldn’t be there. _Are you fucking kidding me? Am I gonna have to look out for this brat until Monday?_ A dissatisfied snarl twitched around her lips as she realised that keeping the kid fed as well would probably use all the change she’d gotten from the fountain.

“Hey. You remember where it was that you ran off from?” Hatchet asked.

“Um… Not really. I just didn’t want to be there.”

_Fucking wonderful._ “Any chance you could _try?_ Wouldn’t you rather sleep in a proper bed?”

“I don’t want to go back.” Nattie repeated the words firmly, holding a certain stubbornness. “They’re mean to me.”

“What, and I’m _not?_ ” Hatchet asked incredulously.

“You’re just growly and grumpy. You aren’t calling me names or saying I’m weird.”

Hatchet let out a dissatisfied sigh, then snorted derisively. “I’d be pretty hypocritical if I did. Don’t get much higher on the freak scale than me.” She vaguely considered trying to scare the kid off, but she felt too tired. All the walking today had worn her out, and her eyes were beginning to droop. She hadn’t really eaten any dinner, but she felt too sick regardless, and she was struggling to stay awake. Who knew, maybe if she woke up screaming again that’d be enough to put the kid off and she’d run away on her own. Reaching around her, she grabbed the clothes she used as pyjamas, changing.

“Are you going to sleep?” Nattie asked.

Hatchet rolled her eyes as she pulled the top over her head. “Yes.” _So shut it._

“What about me?”

“What _about_ you?”

“This isn’t comfy…”

“Yeah, well, should’ve thought about that before you came in here, shouldn’t you?” Annoyed, Hatchet curled up on the beanbag, using her hoodie as a blanket in place of the one Nattie was sat on.

“Isn’t there anything I can sleep on?” There was a quiver in Nattie’s voice, like she was about to cry.

_Oh my cod. Fuck off and let me rest._ Annoyed, Hatchet reluctantly stood, going over to check the state of the clothes she’d hung up to dry. The summer warmth and the sheer size of the warehouse letting the condensation spread meant her shirt was already dry, so she grabbed it and took it back. Swapping it with the hoodie, she handed the fleecier of the two to Nattie before settling back on the beanbag with her thinner surrogate blanket. “There isn’t anything else, so make do,” she said irritably.

The sound of Nattie rustling amongst the fabric and trying to fashion something comfortable continued for a while, wearing on Hatchet’s already frayed nerves, but it eventually fell quiet, and she didn’t hear another word. Exhausted, hungry and sick, Hatchet couldn’t stay awake for long, and passed out quickly.

* * *

Hatchet woke the next morning feeling surprisingly warm, given her small replacement blanket. In fact, the first thing she felt aware of was a definite source of heat right next to her. Suspicious, she blearily cracked her eyes open. Lying there beside her on the beanbag was the child from before. A low growl twitched around Hatchet’s lips and she immediately drew away, shifting off the beanbag. The events of the previous evening sprung forth in her mind, and she remembered Nattie’s sudden appearance and refusal to leave.

_Why the fuck do I have to deal with this?_ Angry at the situation spontaneously forced on her, she stood and strode to the other side of the warehouse, checking the rest of the clothes on the line. Her cargo pants had dried by now, so she grabbed them and went back to pick up her shirt, getting dressed. Picking up her phone and checking the time, she had actually slept for what many would consider a decent amount for once, almost ten hours. Not only that, but she didn’t seem to have had any nightmares in all that time - or maybe she just didn’t remember them, as the familiar morning nausea remained strong, more so than usual. Maybe her exhaustion from all the walking had prompted it. Maybe some powers above had just taken pity on the kid stuck with her and let her sleep peacefully so Nattie wouldn’t be too perturbed by her disruption. Either way, she’d take what she could get. She’d probably need the rest for the day ahead of her. She sat next to her scattered snack dump, pulling a pear out of the bag she’d stuffed some fruit in before. The noise of her movements seemed to rouse Nattie, and she stirred, yawning and sitting up. Seeing Hatchet with her breakfast, she put on a pleading look.

“Can I have something?”

Hatchet rolled her eyes, pulling an apple out of the bag and tossing it to her. She managed to catch it despite the lack of defined digits and ate quickly, if a little awkwardly. _In hindsight being a globby mess of a kid must make things pretty difficult._ There wasn’t a whole lot to remember of Hatchet’s childhood, given how it passed, ignored and alone, so she couldn’t recall if the lack of dexterity was that hard to deal with or not.

Hatchet took the last piece of fruit from the bag, swapping it for the pear core, and started peeling the orange. That was a task one definitely couldn’t perform with tentacle arms. Putting the waste in the bag, she pulled it in half, then prized apart the segments of one half before handing them to Nattie. If she had to feed the kid then she’d at least start with the stuff she got for free. Thinking about it, she knew she herself hadn’t eaten any dinner as a result of how nauseous she felt, but had Nattie? Probably not, if the voracious enthusiasm with which she scarfed down the fruit was anything to go by.

“Reckon you could get outside now?” Hatchet asked.

“Are you going to make me go away?” Nattie asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

“I’m gonna go get more food. So you coming or what?”

“Oh.” Nattie brightened up quickly. “I think so.” She stood up and walked over to the hole in the wall, then concentrated for a moment and her body slowly changed, awkwardly pushing down on itself and trying to make some kind of form better suited for ink. It wasn’t really a complete transformation, the tentacles equivalent to her arms and legs still notably larger than the others, but she managed to get small enough to fit through the little hole. Hatchet went around picking up any bits of litter to stuff in the plastic bag with the fruit waste before following her out.

“I did it!” Nattie said triumphantly, a pleased smile on her face.

“Congrats,” Hatchet muttered dryly, starting her walk to the market. Thank cod Phoebe’s fruit stand was open on weekends, she was going to need more from it. Apparently her pace was a little too quick, as Nattie struggled to keep up, falling behind and having to run intermittently to stay with her.

“This is too fast,” she complained, grabbing Hatchet’s sleeve and pulling slightly as if to slow her.

“Get off me,” Hatchet growled, yanking away from her grasp.

Nattie stopped suddenly, and Hatchet irritatedly looked back, only to see her suddenly looking distraught, on the verge of tears.

“Am I that bad?” she asked, her voice quivering. “Everyone says I’m weird and different. I don’t _want_ to be. I…” She sniffed, looking down.

“It’s not _you_ ,” Hatchet said tiredly. This was annoying. Why couldn’t she have a normal weekend that didn’t include stupid lost kids getting stuck in her home? “I don’t let anyone touch me. Not you, not anyone else. I don’t _care_ if you’re like everyone else or not, and honestly, anyone who does can get f- _get over_ it.”

“But you don’t want me around either. As soon as you got there you wanted me g-gone,” Nattie said, whimpering slightly as tears began to spill down her face.

“Again. Not you. _Everyone._ I don’t want anyone around me.”

“Th- then- I’ll just GO!” Nattie shouted, turning and running off.

Stunned, Hatchet stared after her. For a moment, she just watched as the distance between them increased, but at some point, some instinct kicked in, and she started running after her. She couldn’t stop the scowl that formed on her face. _Why me? Why do I have to deal with this? Stupid kid._ Sprinting to catch up, she followed Nattie as she ran off the path into a patch of trees, losing sight of her. Suddenly the sound of her running stopped, and Hatchet paused, looking around. She must have hidden around one of these trees. Walking around the spot where she’d seen her last, Hatchet listened out carefully as she spoke.

“Listen. Whatever those dumb kids said, just ignore them. You’re not a freak, or a weirdo, or whatever else they might’ve said. You want proof of that, next time they say it just tell ‘em to take a glance at me, for cod’s sake,” she said, trying not to be exasperated. _Better yet just fucking punch them, but I probably shouldn’t encourage that._

“You still don’t want me here!” she heard Nattie yell, and turned, following the sound and moving towards the source of it.

“Yeah, well, guess what? I don’t want you out here on your own, either,” Hatchet replied. Searching for something that might help change Nattie’s mind, she thought back to who she’d been with at the test centre, recalling who had been with the kid when they left. “Hey. Remember the others who were there when we found you? Badger. And Pearl. I may be a big frickin’ mess, but we can go find them, they can take care of you better.”

Actually, that might be easier than she had thought. Pearl and Marina were the newscasters, after all. Even on a Sunday they might be in that studio at the square. Now it was just a case of getting Nattie to come with her.

“I don’t want to,” Nattie said, closer this time. Hatchet was fairly sure where she was now, approaching slowly.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to!” Nattie repeated, from the other side of the tree Hatchet stood by. “Leave me alone!”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Nattie was silent for a moment as Hatchet leaned against the tree, not moving around it to find her just yet.

“...I want to go back.”

_What._ “You mean… to the place with the other kids, or..?”

“No. The place I was before. Before you all went there.”

_Why the fuck?_

“There weren’t people there. No-one was mean to me. It was quiet.”

The nausea that had been stronger than usual all morning rose to a peaking height. Hatchet was at a loss, couldn’t think of anything to say. How was she supposed to explain to this child that the place was run by what may as well have been the embodiment of evil?

“...Listen, kid. You don’t wanna go back there. I… I was at a place like that, too. And it was… Fine, I guess, when I was your age. But as I got older and that thing started paying attention to me, it real quickly became a living hell. You don’t wanna go through that.”

“How do you know it would be the same for me?” Nattie said stubbornly.

“How do you know it wouldn’t?” Hatchet countered. “That AI thing is far worse than anyone you’ve met out here, I can promise you that.”

“I don’t believe you! When I was there, it was okay. No-one made me cry. No-one…” She trailed off, sniffling.

_Oh, it would have. It would have._ Hatchet quietly sighed to herself, not sure what to do. Well, she had one idea… She just didn’t like it. Finally stepping around to the other side of the tree, she saw Nattie sat down at the base of it, huddled in the roots. She crouched down next to her, looking aside slightly. “...You want a hug?”

Nattie stared at her suspiciously. “You said you didn’t like anyone touching you.”

“Yeah, and I _don’t_ , but I’m offering anyway,” Hatchet said, trying not to sound too annoyed. “If it’ll help you feel better…”

“Why would you do it if you don’t want to?”

Explaining this was so tiring. “Like I said, I don’t want you out here on your own either. So I have to pick what I don’t want more. I don’t want you stuck wandering around lost and alone more than I don’t want anyone near me, so I’ll ignore it if that’s what I have to do to keep you safe.”

She hadn’t really intended to say that last bit, but… Apparently people came with a built-in instinct to protect kids. It seemed to have worked, in any case, as Nattie’s expression changed, less suspicious and more surprised. She got up, moving towards Hatchet and hugging her. Hatchet reluctantly returned it, awkwardly patting her head.

“Gonna come with me now?”

“...Okay.”

Hatchet let go of her, standing up. Nattie took hold of her sleeve again, and Hatchet didn’t pull away from her this time, resignedly accepting that she had to tolerate the child until she found someone else to pass her off to. It didn’t help how sick she felt, still worse than ever. She was starting to wonder if she might actually be unwell as opposed to just her usual state of being.

She walked slower, allowing Nattie to keep pace with ease. They made their way to the market, and Hatchet was silently glad for it being quiet so early in the morning as she walked to Phoebe’s stand. The familiar inkling looked up at her approach, one eyebrow cocked when she saw Nattie.

“‘Atchet,” she greeted with a nod.

“Hey,” Hatchet said, pointedly disinterestedly. She picked up a variety of fruit to stuff in her pockets, opening a banana and handing it to Nattie.

“You ‘ave a kid?” Phoebe asked.

_Of course she’d assume that._ “Don’t. She just ran away from wherever and ended up stuck with me. I’m taking her to someone who’ll be able to actually take care of her now.”

“Eh. ‘Ow ‘bout that. Well, good luck.”

Hurrying away from the market, Hatchet hoped it would be similarly quiet in the square. When they left, Nattie handed the banana peel back to her.

“You can just go and take food from there?”

“No. I get to because I help there sometimes.”

“Oh.”

Hatchet tossed the peel in a bin as they went past, wishing the nausea would subside. She felt ravenous, but with how strong it was, she didn’t trust anything she ate to stay down if she tried. Sadly for her, the square was still fairly populated on a Sunday morning. She awkwardly maneuvered her way through the crowd, making sure Nattie was still holding onto her. Even if most of the shops were closed, the lobby and the news still ran on weekends, and sure enough when she looked through the studio window she could see Pearl and Marina chatting.

Making her way over to it, she knocked on the glass to get their attention, pointing at Nattie. Marina noticed her first, and a relieved expression spread over her face as she said something to Pearl. Pearl similarly lit up once she saw and waved, pointing to the side. Hatchet took that to mean she should go around the side of the building, and led Nattie down the little alleyway to the door where she’d entered before with Badger and Peppermint. Sure enough, it soon opened, Marina ushering them in.

“You found her! We had a call from social services yesterday afternoon saying she’d gone missing, they weren’t sure where to look for her but we didn’t have a clue either. Oh, I’m glad she’s safe,” Marina said, clear relief in her voice.

“More like she found me, but whatever,” Hatchet muttered.

“Where’d _you_ run off to, li’l scamp? Everyone’s been worried about ya,” Pearl asked, pushing past to address Nattie.

Nattie seemed unsure, shifting closer to Hatchet and clinging to her sleeve a little tighter. “I… The place they took me to was…” She trailed off, falling silent.

“You left her with social services? Explains things,” Hatchet said tiredly. “The other kids bullied her, so she ran off, and happened to find me. She’s been with me since last night.”

“Oh dear,” Marina said. “There’s not much else we can do, though…”

“Aren’t you supposed to be rich or something? Hire a carer or something,” Hatchet said.

“My family’s got cash, sure, but what am I meant to tell my parents when I borrow their money for that?” Pearl asked.

“It’s not even a lie to say you found a kid with nowhere to go. Are rich people such bastards that they can’t care about that?”

Marina’s eyes widened as the expletive slipped from Hatchet’s mouth, pointedly gesturing at Nattie. _Shut up, I’ve been holding my tongue since yesterday evening._

“I… My parents are kinda… They always say if you do it for one person then everyone’ll expect you to do it for everyone…” Pearl fidgeted uncomfortably. “It’s a load of bullcarp, but if I go behind their backs they’ll cut me off from their funds, and we need that to deal with the AI.”

“Well there’s no point putting her back in the same place as last time, she’ll just run off again,” Hatchet said, narrowing her eyes. “Between you two and the others there must be _someone_ who can take care of her. Or like, take it in turns or something, I don’t know.”

“We could try, but would you help too?” Marina asked dubiously.

“I…” Hatchet looked aside, growling slightly. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Hatchet’s house isn’t a house,” Nattie piped up.

Hatchet’s growl intensified immediately. _Of course she has to fucking tell them._ Somewhere in the back of her mind she was surprised that Nattie remembered her name. Badger had introduced her at the test centre, sure, but she hadn’t expected her to still know it.

“Whaddya mean, not a house?” Pearl asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“Don’t-”

“It’s a big empty place with nothing in it. And it smells.”

The urge to shout at her to shut up was incredibly strong, and Hatchet could feel her temper about to snap. Yanking herself free of Nattie’s grasp, she turned to leave, slamming the door behind her. She didn’t look back as she stormed through the crowds and away from the city. _For fuck’s sake. Whatever. She’s with them now, they can deal with it. I’m fucking done with this. If she starts crying again they can handle it, not me._ Pushing past the people in her way, she rushed to get out of the city centre, and as she went, she felt something rise in her eyes.

Tears.

_What the fuck?_ Bitter and angry, she blinked hard, refusing to let them form. There was a sudden misery rising in her, and she couldn’t place where it came from. She growled, trying to force it down. There was no reason for this bullshit to be happening to her. Adamantly holding the tears in, she hurried back to the warehouse, back to her solitude - assuming it was actually fucking empty this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which hatchet realises maybe she should put at least the tiniest bit of effort into not being (as much of) a dick to kids. she did not do very well. dont be like hatchet, folks   
> if anyone has anything to share in the comments please do! feedback is very welcome even in its smallest forms and its hard to tell what people think from hits/kudos alone. i would love to hear ur thoughts!!


	6. Shifting tides

Something was weighing heavily on Hatchet’s mind. It had been a few days since she left Nattie with Off the Hook, but that morning kept coming to the forefront of her mind. Something about the way she had felt so much worse than usual, how it even ended up almost bringing her to tears bothered her.

At first she wondered if she was just unwell, but the next day she was already back to feeling better - or at least feeling her normal amounts of nausea. Maybe it was just from having to deal with the kid, but… Some nagging feeling in the back of her mind insisted it wasn’t as simple as that. It didn’t provide any explanation, however, so she just had to put up with feeling uncomfortable about it with no understanding of why.

Perturbed by it all, she had steered clear of the city centre in the meantime, hoping that whatever they sorted out for the kid would be better than the last time and she might actually stay there instead of wandering off - and avoid invading Hatchet’s space again. It did mean she hadn’t been to see if they had furthered their plans regarding the AI for a while, but with how much they were dawdling previously she doubted they’d have made any headway just yet. Still, she should go and check sometime soon…

She’d been picking through the contents of the dump all morning and had a fair bit to take to the scrapyard, so set off to get her pay, then headed towards the square. It was midday, so the place would be crowded - even the people usually busy with work would be out on their lunch breaks. Pulling a kiwi from her pocket to eat as she walked, she was grateful for the constant readiness of fruit now. She had to admit, the deal she’d struck with Phoebe was proving to be quite a lifesaver.

She weaved her way through the people, scowling when anyone brushed past her on her way to Ammo Knights. The shop itself had a fair few customers in it, and while Hatchet could easily spot Peppermint inside, she was talking to one of them. Hatchet hung back, leaning against one of the walls. The crab didn’t seem to have noticed her enter just yet, busily chatting an inkling’s ear off about some kind of charger. There was another familiar face in the store, though - Badger. They were similarly leaning against one wall, and made eye contact with Hatchet from across the room. When they spotted her, they looked uncertain, offering only a small nod. Hatchet crossed the floor to speak to them, figuring they were as likely as Peppermint to know what the deal was.

“Hey. Runt.”

Badger’s expression immediately changed, the awkward anxiousness dropping and quickly replaced by indignance.

“Are you ever _not_ like that?” Badger asked, disgruntled.

“No,” Hatchet said flatly, rolling her eyes. “What’s the deal with the AI?”

“Marina’s decided on the best site to target next. We’re going next week, when they got people to cover for the news, on Monday. Eight’s coming next time, too.”

“Great, another one,” Hatchet muttered. She had no idea who Eight was, but she had a feeling she’d heard the name before. “Whatever. Monday. Where and when?”

“We’ll be gathering in the square at eleven am.”

Hatchet let out a tired exhale. That was the information she needed. And yet… she didn’t really want to leave the shop just yet. The bustle outside was not something she felt up to dealing with right now. At least in here there were only a few people. As long as no-one bothered trying to talk to her, it was better trying to stay in the quiet until the midday rush was over. She crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. Badger glanced at her uncertainly, eventually speaking up again.

“So… Heard you found the kid when she went missing.”

_Fucking shrimp, leave me alone._ “Yeah, and?”

“I dunno, I just… We’re all glad she’s safe, so… that’s on you. Thanks, I guess.”

“Shut up.” _It’s not like I had a choice._

“Alright, fine,” Badger muttered sullenly. “Just trying to be nice. ‘S not like you to stick around, did you still want to ask something, or…?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Hatchet growled. Maybe there wasn’t any point in staying here after all. The crab had spotted her by now too, and was giving her a warning look. She glared back, huffing as she straightened up to walk out. She scowled as she left, reluctantly pushing her way through the crowds of people. Idiots.

She headed to the market on her way out of the city centre, something that was becoming part of her daily routine. It was similarly crowded there, and she felt a growl rising in her throat as she tried to maintain what little personal space she could, weaving through the people. Phoebe, behind her stall, was looking a little flustered as she struggled to keep up with everyone. When she noticed Hatchet, she quickly spoke up.

“‘Ey! ‘Atchet! Any chance yer free at all?”

Hatchet paused, halfway towards picking up an apple to pocket. Well, _theoretically_ she could help, but she was already in a foul mood from all the people around…

Phoebe saw her hesitation and continued. “Listen, I’ll make sure it’s worth it for ya. My aunt runs a coffee shop, she often ‘as spare stuff at the end of the week that needs t’ go, we can talk to ‘er an’ getcha somethin’ fer yer trouble. I could seriously use an ‘and right now.”

More food to offer? Possibly something more sustaining that fruit? Reluctant as she was, Hatchet knew that wasn’t something she should turn down. Sighing, she moved around to Phoebe’s side of the stand.

“Thanks, yer a lifesaver,” Phoebe said, audibly relieved. “Same ‘s last time?”

“Fine.” Hatchet tried not to scowl too much as she moved to the weighing scales, beckoning for the person at the front of the queue to hand over what they wanted.

Apparently one extra person made quite a difference, as the queue quickly diminished. While it was fairly busy for a weekday, it was still less so than it had been on Saturday, so it wasn’t long before they reached a calmer moment. While the market was still fairly full, most of the people in it were meandering without pausing to actually buy.

“Why the hell is it so busy today, anyway?” Hatchet growled, scowling.

“Ya didn’t ‘ear? Splatfest announcement,” Phoebe replied.

Ugh. Of course. The recurring events were nothing but a nuisance to Hatchet, causing more crowds and early closures. All the more reason to stock up on food supplies, she’d much rather be able to hole up and ignore the masses until the stupid thing was over.

“Guessin’ from that look yer not a fan,” Phoebe remarked. “You one o’ them ranked players ‘o gets salty about ‘em bein’ closed for the splatfests?”

“What? No,” Hatchet said, frowning. “I don’t do any of that trash.”

“Why’sat? Ya know ya can get money off it, right?”

“ _Yes, I know_ ,” Hatchet replied, exasperatedly. “I just don’t. Leave it at that.”

She didn’t particularly feel like sharing that she was banned from ink sports. It was inevitably one of the first things she’d heard about when she came to the city, so of course she’d signed up - when she had just arrived and was completely unused to people.

She thought back to her first match of turf war, where some poor sap tried to congratulate the newbie for a win with a pat on the back. Positive physical contact was not something that had ever existed for her previously, though, and not something that occurred to her as even _possible_ , and she’d quickly turned and punched the guy square in the face. Young and stupid, she hadn’t known what to do, ending up bickering with the others on her team when they reprimanded her and picking more fights. Unsurprisingly, that hadn’t gone down well. 

_No point dwelling on that._ Hatchet brushed the memories aside, disinterested.

“Aight, whatever,” Phoebe said, shrugging.

“Am I done here or what?” Hatchet asked tiredly. She would be better off out collecting scrap to sell.

“Sure, ’s quietened down, ‘s probably fine ‘ere on out…” Phoebe looked up at her appraisingly. “If ya come back ‘ere around five pm, ‘s when I close the stall an’ I’ll show ya to my aunt’s place. I’d guess ‘s not too often ya get a proper cooked meal, right?”

Hatchet didn’t particularly care to admit to that, but it was true that she didn’t remember the last time she’d had any kind of hot food. “...Alright.”

“See ya then.”

Eager to get away from the crowds, Hatchet quickly strode away, heading over to the dump. With a few hours to burn before five, she’d hopefully be able to make some cash.

* * *

The hours passed easily enough, and Hatchet ambled back towards the market as the afternoon drew to its end. On her way she ended up deliberating Phoebe’s offer dubiously. She didn’t entirely trust the inkling, and even though she had only kept to her word regarding their deal so far, Hatchet was still suspicious. On top of that, it sounded like the promise of a decent dinner relied not only on Phoebe being trustworthy, but whoever her aunt was, too. The more she thought about it, the worse it seemed, and Hatchet began to wonder if she should just turn around and go instead.

The thought occurred too late. She was already at the market, and while she was lingering at the entrance, Phoebe seemed to have already finished closing up her stall and had found her.

“‘Ere y’are. Mason’s place isn’t far, ‘s about a twenty minute walk. While we’re at it I figured I’d take ‘er some o’ the extras, carry this, will ya?”

Phoebe handed Hatchet a pair of bags packed with fruit, then quickly went back to her stand to grab another pair stashed behind the counter. _Hmmm. So she wanted more help._

“‘S a place called Caffeine Lover, ya might know it,” Phoebe said as she began leading the way. “Technically closes at ‘alf five, but Mace’s always there for a good hour after closin’ up, an’ I let ‘er know earlier we’d be comin’ by, so she ain’t gonna turn us away.”

Hatchet didn’t care to respond, giving the barest minimum of acknowledgement with a quiet grunt. Phoebe didn’t seem bothered; maybe she anticipated that level of disinterest in conversation.

“Everythin’ go alright wi’ that kid?”

“Took her to people more able to take care of her than me. Not that that’s hard,” Hatchet muttered. “Haven’t seen her since, so hopefully that means she hasn’t run off again.”

“Friends o’ yers?”

Hatchet’s immediate instinct was to let out a derisive snort at that suggestion, but suppressed it, silent. _I don’t have friends._ It was true, but there was no point in saying it. She knew how annoying people were with their pity and their arguments that everyone needs others to lean on. _I’ll rely on people when someone cares. So never._ She bit down on the bitter snarl threatening to surface, saying nothing.

Phoebe didn’t press her for an answer and they walked on in silence. They arrived at the place soon enough, a quaint little coffee shop not too far from the city centre. Hatchet recognised it but had never been inside. Phoebe pushed the door open with her shoulder, and a bell above it sounded to announce their arrival. The interior was very cosy, and while it didn’t look too big from the outside, Hatchet could see the room extended pretty far back, looking like it opened out into a wider space further down. Behind the counter was a short chubby inkling with green hair, but Hatchet imagined she couldn’t be Mason - she looked around the same age as Hatchet, maybe a little older, but not old enough to be Phoebe’s aunt.

“‘Ey, Izzy,” Phoebe greeted, nodding to her.

“Hi, Phoebe! Mason said you’d be coming by,” Izzy replied, waving.

“Phoebs, ‘ere y’are,” came a voice from one corner. A notably older inkling with mint blue hair spoke with the same thick accent as Phoebe as she stood from one of the tables, a laptop left on it. One of her eyebrows rose as she spied the four bags carried between Phoebe and Hatchet. “Just ‘ow much did ya bring me?”

“Only as much as I reckon ya can use,” Phoebe replied, smiling as she set down the bags to hug the approaching inkling. “Good ta see ya, Mason.”

“Same ‘ere, Phoebs. ‘Ow’s the stand goin’?”

“Just grand, ‘specially now I got some ‘elp on it,” Phoebe replied, letting go of Mason and gesturing to Hatchet. “This is ‘Atchet, she’s been givin’ me an ‘and lately. ‘Atchet, this is my aunt, Mason.”

Mason glanced at Hatchet appraisingly, looking her up and down. “Well, don’t’cha look like yer a real ray o’ sunshine.” If that sarcastic statement was a bad thing, apparently she didn’t mind it, offering a hand to shake regardless. “If yer ‘elpin’ out my niece, yer fine wi’ me.”

Well, she spoke plainly, which was something Hatchet could appreciate. She wasn’t trying to pretend to be overly friendly, in any case. Hatchet set down the bags of fruit to shake Mason’s hand.

“Not a talkative one, are ya?” Mason commented.

“Don’t mind ‘er. She’s a grump, but she ain’t too bad,” Phoebe said, picking up the bags of fruit again to take over to the counter.

“Phoebs said abou’ gettin’ ya some dinner. ‘Ope ya like cottage pie, that’s what I kept aside for ya.” Mason paused, watching Phoebe chatting with Izzy at the counter for a moment. “She only said abou’ gettin’ somethin’ fer today, but if ya come by any Saturday before we close up, that’s when we gotta go through the week’s leftovers. Anythin’ older’n a week can’t be sold but the food’s still perfectly good ‘s long ‘s it’s been stored proper, so any o’ the cakes an’ meals older than that gotta go, even if they just been in the fridge the ‘ole time.”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And why would you offer me that?”

Mason shrugged. “Yer ‘elpin’ my niece out. She ‘as plenty o’ stress as it is, an’ I know she ain’t payin’ ya, but yer ‘elpin’ er manage the ‘arder days anyway. I appreciate that.” She gestured at the bags of fruit by the counter. “An’ ‘ey, she’s ‘elpin’ me out too, so if yer ‘elpin’ ‘er, yer ‘elpin’ me. So I’ll give ya thanks fer that.”

Hatchet wasn’t entirely sold, but couldn’t find any angles to poke holes in Mason’s argument from and said nothing. Dubious, she realised it was the same as when Phoebe had first offered the deal - only her arrangement had been less of a choice given her threats regarding security. Perhaps this was where she’d gotten her business sense from, or whatever it was. At least if she took Mason up on her offer it would be by choice.

“Well, might ‘s well get that pie in fer ya,” Mason said, turning to go towards the kitchen. “Go on an’ sit down wherever. If ya know whatcha want ta drink, let Izzy know.” With that, she disappeared into another room from behind the counter.

Hatchet glanced around at the tables, near enough all empty already. There was only one customer still there, a tall, lanky inkling in one corner who looked like he was already done with everything he had and was ready to leave as soon as the place officially closed. He was looking down, intently reading something or other. Ignoring him, Hatchet wondered what to have to drink. Looking towards the counter, the wall behind it displayed the drinks available. Beneath it, Phoebe was leaning on the counter, chatting away with Izzy. Izzy seemed cheerful enough to talk to her, but her gaze drifted over to Hatchet every now and again, hastily turning back when she realised Hatchet was watching. _Tch. Just like anyone else, I guess._

Well, if free caffeine was on offer, she wasn’t going to turn it down. Standing, she walked over to the counter. “I’ll have a latte.”

“Ain’t it a bit late in the day for coffee?” Phoebe asked.

Hatchet growled slightly. “Not planning on an early night.” Really, she’d take anything to help stave off the need for sleep.

Phoebe shrugged, leaving it.

“One latte, coming up,” Izzy said, turning to work the coffee machine behind her. Hatchet went to sit down again, not interested in making conversation. It wasn’t long before the drink was ready, and Izzy brought it over to her, setting the tall glass down next to her.

“Here ya go,” she said, smiling. It was a well-practised customer service smile, but that was still all it was.

“Thanks,” Hatchet muttered quietly. She may not usually be the most well-mannered, but she had seen enough dead-eyed baristas dealing with entitled customers to know they got enough attitude without her adding to it.

“So, uh, maybe an odd question, and sorry if I’m being rude making assumptions or anything, but… Do you know Peppermint?”

Hatchet’s ears twitched slightly and she looked up at Izzy. She hadn’t expected that to come up. “Yeah, I know that big sap. How do _you_ know her?” Hatchet asked suspiciously.

“She’s my neighbour,” Izzy explained. “Just moved in a few weeks ago into the flat next to mine. Small world, huh?”

“...Sure.” Disinterested, Hatchet pulled the latte closer to her, warming her hands on the hot glass.

“You know what’s the deal with that kid she’s got with her? I mean, she can’t be _hers_ , but she clammed up really quickly when I asked.”

They’d dumped Nattie on Peppermint? That… bothered Hatchet. She suppressed the growl in her throat. Seriously? With all the people involved, there had to be someone better for it than Peppermint, who had barely spent a month or so around people at all herself. Sure, she was still better for it than Hatchet, at least Peppermint had a proper home and presumably would be better at feeding the kid. Even so… She felt nausea rise in her, and scowled. _Can’t that happen when I’m not about to have some decent food?_

“Not my business,” Hatchet said dismissively. Which was true, really. Why should she care about the stupid kid? She didn’t have any reason to. _Right…?_ She shook away any thoughts that might try to argue. She didn’t care to talk about this mess. Or think about it.

“Oh… fair enough, I guess.” Izzy seemed to realise Hatchet wasn’t inclined to chat, or maybe had things to get to, but either way she walked away, going back to the counter.

Hatchet leaned against the table, resting her head on her hands. Suddenly so many things were happening to her. For the past years since she’d escaped the AI, once she had settled in the warehouse and found the dump, gotten into her routine of collecting scrap to get by, things had become fairly uniform for her. She made her money, scraped by, and her spare time was spent at the library researching and working on how to destroy the AI. Now that process she’d been so long awaiting had finally begun, but it came with having to deal with all those other prats who’d gotten themselves involved and decided to keep their info on its whereabouts to themselves.

Then she’d had to put up with that kid, another event completely unheard of in her prior life. Now she had this deal with Phoebe and working with her on weekends, and on top of that had a similar offer from Mason, too. Undoubtedly, having a stable food source was a good thing, so she couldn’t complain about those last two, and she was glad to finally be enacting some minor level of revenge against the AI, but… The sheer amount of change didn’t seem to agree with her, and she’d been feeling more sick than usual. Hopefully she would get used to it and it would die down…

She was brought out of her meandering thoughts as Mason reappeared, bringing over a plate. On it was a generous portion of cottage pie with sautéed vegetables on the side.

“‘Ere ya go,” Mason said, setting it down along with a knife and fork wrapped in a napkin. “Enjoy.”

She didn’t linger, going over to the door to flip the sign on it. Glancing around, Hatchet realised the singular inkling customer who’d been present when she arrived was gone, supposing he must have slipped off when she was lost in her thoughts. Hatchet didn’t waste any time in digging in to the food, almost burning her tongue on the hot meal. It occurred to her that it had been such a long time since she’d eaten anything like this that the cutlery felt foreign in her hands. It was a somewhat depressing thought so she pushed it away, trying to appreciate having a proper meal for once. It was vastly more palatable than the bland cheap snacks Hatchet had been relying on for sustenance for so long, and it was good to eat something that was actually pretty delicious for once.

If this kind of thing was regularly on offer, well… She could get used to that. She felt full before she finished but ate the rest anyway, not wanting to let such good food go to waste. She’d rather feel a little lethargic and be full for longer. Finishing up, she stood to take the plate over to the counter. She hadn’t felt so well-fed in a long, long time.

“...Thanks,” she said as she handed the empty plate to Mason, and she found herself truly meaning it, not just being polite. Whether it was just because she was helping Phoebe or not, she was legitimately grateful to actually feel like she was properly nourished for once.

“Got a good appetite on ya, eh? Glad ya liked it,” Mason said, taking it through to the kitchen.

“‘Owsat fer a good dinner? Mace’s a great cook, right?” Phoebe asked cheerfully. She seemed to be in a good mood.

“...Mm.” Hatchet quietly agreed, feeling awkward. Gratitude was a rather foreign emotion to her. Disliking the feeling of not knowing what to do with it, she decided she was done here anyway. “Well, I… Thanks…” she muttered. “...See ya.”

One of Phoebe’s eyebrows twitched as if it might rise, but it didn’t. Not waiting around for any further reaction, Hatchet hastily turned and left before anyone could say anything. She was glad she recognised the area and wouldn’t have to worry about getting directions, quickly hurrying to the warehouse.

She didn’t like this uncomfortable feeling, of having things she felt she should say and not knowing how to express them. She sighed as she walked, slowing slightly once she’d gotten a decent distance from the coffee shop. Putting thoughts of what she did and didn’t know how to do out of her mind, she instead thought of what she should spend the rest of her evening on. The scrapyard would be closed by now, but she could still get scrap and have it ready to take in the morning if she wanted. Or she could just go home…

The slightly-too-full feeling made her opt for the latter. Once she arrived at the familiar old building and squeezed her way through the hole in the wall, she sat down on the beanbag, lying back. Maybe right now, full as she was and with a decent supply of fruit and snacks at current, it would be fine for her to just stop and do nothing for a little while. She didn’t even feel like pulling the tennis ball out to bounce or toss to herself. She just wanted to lie here and enjoy being sufficiently fed.

The caffeine from the latte kept her from drowsing, but she didn’t feel restless. Fidgeting to get more comfortable, she stared up at the blank ceiling. This was… the closest she’d felt in a long time to being relaxed. Content. Her thoughts drifted as she appreciated the feeling, and went back to all the recent changes in her life. She was still uncertain about it all, but… if it lead to more of this pleasant feeling… she’d work with it. 


	7. Livid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra anger today, as implied by the chapter title. theres a lil bit of background bepsi tho. one lil bit of nice amongst all the awful

Monday arrived to see Hatchet make her way to the square, reluctantly putting up with the bustle of the city to join the others. She was a little early, and it wasn’t quite eleven yet, so she headed down the little alleyway next to the studio, if only to get away from the people. She didn’t have the tennis ball with her to bounce against the walls this time, instead using the pocket it had been in to store a few snacks after wishing she’d had some available on the way home last time. Bored, she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms as she waited.

The minutes ticked by, and after a while Peppermint and Badger found her, followed by an octoling she felt like she vaguely recognised.

“Hi,” Peppermint said, waving slightly.

Hatchet huffed slightly, not bothering to give any further response. Badger rolled their eyes at her.

“Eight, that’s Hatchet, Hatchet, this is Eight. Technically you met when we got out of the place last time, but I don’t think you were introduced or anything,” they said.

“Um, it is good to be meeting you,” Eight said quietly, offering a hand to shake. “I hope you are able to recover well from before.”

 _Typical. Another sap._ Hatchet glared down at the hand offered, not moving to take it as she flicked her gaze up at Eight. She was about to spit out her disinterest when the door near them opened, Marina looking out at them. _Seriously? What a time for the fucking civility guard to turn up._ Hatchet held in her groan as she unfolded her arms, reluctantly giving Eight the briefest handshake possible.

“Oh good, everyone’s here,” Marina said, glancing at the scene unfolding. “And getting along, I hope.” It was obvious who that last comment was aimed at, and Hatchet had to make a significant effort not to growl, a dirty scowl etched onto her face regardless. Marina either didn’t see it or chose to ignore it, moving swiftly onwards. “We’ve got the chopper ready to go on the roof.”

“If you’d asked me a year ago if I ever expected to fly in a helicopter I would’ve probably said ‘no’, but here we are, going for the third time,” Badger said, chuckling slightly.

“Honestly, for some of the places on the list it’s not even necessary, but Pearlie insists she _never_ gets to use them otherwise,” Marina replied, smiling. “Aside from the threat to all life on the planet, I’m pretty sure she’s enjoying this.”

“Um…” Eight spoke quietly as they went up the stairs, seeming to be addressing Hatchet, if her hanging back near her was anything to go by. Annoyingly. The octoling glanced at her, then spoke again, but this time in words Hatchet couldn’t understand. A singular unimpressed eyebrow rose on Hatchet’s features as she glowered at Eight.

“What?”

“O-oh… Um, do not mind it,” she said.

Peppermint, just ahead of them, seemed to have heard. “She asked if you speak octarian too. …I guess the answer is apparent.”

“Why the hell would I?”

“Well… _I_ learned it… But Lavender didn’t, either,” Peppermint replied. “It seems we all learned different stuff.”

“What are you on about?” Hatchet growled. Presumably Lavender was the other lab rat. She made a mental note of that, but she didn’t like what else she was hearing.

“...At the test centres?” Peppermint said, confused. “I was taught about… um, lots of things. Core sciences, mathematics, human history, languages, geography… Whereas Lavender learned about psychology and philosophy and stuff. What about you? I’d guess electrics and mechanics from the homebrew EMP...”

“...You were being taught all that shit?” An unsettled feeling grew in Hatchet’s stomach, giving rise to the familiar nausea.

“Did you… not learn things?”

“ _No, I fucking didn’t_ ,” Hatchet spat. “What else happened to you while you were there?”

“Um… That was about it…”

 _What the fuck?_ “And it was the same for Lavender?”

“Mm-hmm. It seems so,” Peppermint said, but she was watching Hatchet with a concerned look. Probably due to the anger rising in her that must be clear on her face. “You… really weren’t learning things like us? Then how come you made the EMP?”

“That thing barely taught me _jack shit_ ,” Hatchet growled. “I learned to speak and read and write as a kid and how to fucking _feed myself_ and then it just fucking ignored me for however many years. I had to learn everything I needed to know on my own after I left.”

“It just… ignored you?” Peppermint echoed, surprised.

 _Yeah, until it took interest again._ Hatchet quickly chased those thoughts off, not wanting to go there, not interested in thinking back on that hellish period. They had arrived on the roof now, and everyone was piling into the helicopter. Unwilling to go further down that avenue of conversation, Hatchet isolated herself in a corner as it lifted off, feeling awfully sick and as if she might start trembling.

 _What the fuck. Why the hell did they just have to go through fucking school or whatever? They didn’t have to suffer anything like THAT?_ Hatchet felt twitchy as a vile rage grew within her. She wanted to tear something apart. _It was only me? Why? Why!?_ That thing was going to _pay._ So it didn’t torture all of its little lab rats the way it had her. That just made it personal - or, well, even more so than it already was. Lost in her anger, she didn’t realise she was being addressed, not until Peppermint shifted closer to her, speaking up a little louder.

“Hatchet? ...Are you okay?”

“ _No, I am not fucking okay_ ,” Hatchet snarled, her voice rising. _“I am going to TEAR that TWISTED SCRAP OF GARBAGE TO **PIECES**!” _

Twitching, she clutched at her arms, digging through her shirt into the skin around her elbows, trying to let any of the seething hatred within her out in a way that allowed her to maintain control of herself. Glaring up, she realised that everyone was staring at her after her outburst, fear and discomfort written all over their faces.

“Woah, there. You need to take a chill pill,” Pearl said, unusually quietly for her. Hatchet growled viciously, tightening her grip on herself.

“...Hatchet,” Marina warned softly. “Don’t do anything rash, now.”

“Does it not _look like_ that is _exactly_ what I am trying to fucking manage!?” Hatchet spat, drawing in on herself as she shook. “Don’t fucking talk to me. Don’t talk to me, don’t come _near_ me, just leave me alone until we get there.” She shuffled further back into the corner, drawing her knees up to curl in a tight ball. An awkward silence fell, leaving the only noise being that of the engine. When the others did speak up again, it was in hushed, wary tones.

The journey felt longer than it was, uncomfortable. Hatchet stayed curled up, refusing to acknowledge anyone as she tried to even her breathing and calm herself. Her own biting grip on her arms was breaking through the skin, and the stinging pain helped slightly. The burning hateful rage was too much, it felt overwhelming, consuming. She needed _some_ kind of outlet, and digging into her own skin was the quietest and least conspicuous option that allowed her to do _something_ about it without doing significant damage to anyone.

When they arrived and the helicopter touched down, Hatchet waited for everyone else to get out before unfurling herself, slightly calmer. She was still far from a good mood, but at least she wasn’t trembling and twitching quite so badly any more. They were on a sparse rocky outcropping, on a cliff of some kind. _Great. No plants to take it out on here._

She got out of the helicopter, keeping her distance from the rest of the group. She could feel everyone watching her and there was a desire to snap at them, but she bit her tongue, focusing on trying to find some way to deal with the boiling emotions within her. _It’s not like I can blame them. I’d be wary of the unhinged mess, too._ She settled for standing at the edge of the cliff, picking up rocks and hurling them as far as she could out into the abyss. She could still sense everyone’s gazes as they bore into her, and it made her uncomfortable. Last time she had at least managed to be discreet, but there was no hope of concealing her anger now, not after that outburst. That knowledge made her bitter, and only worsened the situation. She kept throwing rocks until her arms were sore. The burning ache helped.

Once she felt appropriately in control of herself, she wandered back to the rest of them, decidedly avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Are you… managing it better now?” Marina asked.

“Fine,” Hatchet growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You’re not gonna lose it and try to hurt anyone, are you?” Pearl asked warily.

“If I was going to then I _would have_ by now, you little prick,” Hatchet snapped. “I’m _fine_ now. The only thing that could set me off is if that _shitty AI_ gets a chance to say anything, and if it does, it won’t matter, because I’ll have someone to direct it at already. And unless it’s somehow developed a magical immunity to EMPs, that won’t happen anyway.”

“ _Hatchet_ ,” Marina warned. Hatchet growled slightly but did what she could to muffle it, pointing her vicious glare at the ground, fists clenched tightly. Marina paused for a moment, but eventually continued. “This site is in an old assumed-abandoned octarian base from before the territories changed, and comparing it with the old records, it’s built into the cliff. While you’re in there, if possible I’d like you to try and recover the hard drive from the computer system if you can. I’ve spoken to Eight about it, she’ll know what she’s looking for once you get to it. I’ve got an old model here we can attach it up to that has very limited hardware and functions, and we’ll be able to use it to get more info without fear of the AI being able to do anything from it.”

“She showed me, it does not even able to try and connect the internet,” Eight said, nodding in confirmation.

“Assuming the AI and the database are tied together, the worst it would be able to do on this thing would be delete its own files, but we’ll have to wait and see. It’s still worth trying for the possible insight even if it might just be annoying and remove everything before anyone gets a chance.” Marina paused, shifting the laptop closed under her arm. “Once you’re in and you have the EMP’s effects going, I’ll keep an eye on things to see if it reactivates from here. As for getting in, if it’s the same as when it was an octarian base, then there should be a kettle hidden somewhere.”

“A kettle?” Peppermint asked.

“The octarians have these old-school giant kettles they used to hide entrances to places, they’re invisible until you ink ‘em,” Badger explained. “Just like Octo Valley, huh. Guess we’d better get searchin’.”

“How are you s’posed to find it if it’s invisible?” Pearl asked, frowning.

“It still, like… looks weird,” Badger said, trying to figure out how to describe it. “Like, y’know how on a hot day if you look at the roads the air is kinda shimmery just above it?”

“Oooh.” Pearl nodded to herself, but Peppermint looked lost.

“...No…”

“I… guess you haven’t seen that yet, huh,” Badger said, looking up at her. “Just keep an eye out for anything that looks like something _might_ be there.”

The group spread out, all readying their weapons. Hatchet intended on keeping her distance, picking an area the others weren’t occupying. If they were still concerned about her vile mood… No need to make them unnecessarily worried. That was the plan, anyway, but Marina came over to her, Pearl following with a wary expression.

“Hatchet. I had some things to ask you,” she started. “That said, I recognise this isn’t a great time for you, so… I’m not going to bug you for it now. But we don’t have any way of contacting you, so I figured I’d let you know while you’re here. Please come find us at some point when you’re in a better state to talk.”

Hatchet grunted in acknowledgement, nodding slightly. At least they knew not to bother her too much right now. The two of them walked away again, leaving her to look around on her own. She didn’t really know what she was looking for, and perhaps another time that would irritate her, but in her current mood and situation any extra time on her own was a good thing. She wasn’t really looking that hard for anything, just trying to keep her burning anger under wraps.

Not paying attention, she almost missed it when she heard Badger call out that they’d found the thing. She turned in time to see them fling their roller at it, breaking whatever illusion it cast and revealing the kettle to plain sight. Everyone gathered around it, and Hatchet sighed to herself as she trudged over. _Let’s get this over with._ At least once they found the computer and Eight got hold of the hard drive there would be something she could take her frustrations out on.

“This thing just like any old grate?” Hatchet asked.

“Pretty much,” Badger said. “They’re sorta weird, they kinda push you, but it’s mostly the same thing once you’ve actually found it.”

Hatchet began pulling the generator out of her pocket, rifling through the other for the tangle of wires.

“Oh, before you use that…” Marina trailed off, jogging back to the helicopter. She came back soon after, carrying a thick, heavy-looking box. “If you wait to do it until after you’ve gone in, then the distance just from the depth combined with the insulation if I stick my laptop in here should be enough to protect it,” she said, depositing her laptop into it and shutting it up tight, ensuring the clasps on it locked it thoroughly closed.

Hatchet shrugged, stuffing the things back in her pockets. Not interested in wasting time, she shifted forms, jumping down into the kettle. She heard a high-pitched whistling behind her, then suddenly a strong pressure could be felt, pushing her down into the depths of the cliff at a greater pace than she’d like. There was a pad below that she landed on, and the speed at which she’d been falling left her juddering slightly as she met the ground. That… had certainly been an experience.

She didn’t look too hard at her surroundings as she pulled the generator out of her pocket. Somewhere far above she heard another shrill whistling from the kettle, and stepped aside off the landing pad as she connected the EMP up and flicked the switch on the generator, prompting the lights to go off. The kettle sounded off a third time just before Badger landed next to her with a flourish, waving their arms out wildly as they dropped in, almost knocking her and earning a slight growl.

“Wait-” Badger seemed to have heard the third whistle go off as quickly as it had and looked up. Hatchet glanced aside at them just in time to see Peppermint drop in, and Badger, with too little time to try and get out of the way, had opted to try and catch her instead. They were only partially successful, in that they did manage to, but also buckled under her sudden weight and toppled over anyway.

“Oh- Badger- a-are you alright?” Peppermint asked, surprised and somewhat concerned.

“F-fine,” Badger replied, muffled slightly. They’d fallen forward and ended up lying on her with their arms still around her from the catch. Looking up, there was a significant blush across their cheeks. “Just lost my balance…”

“S-sorry,” Peppermint said sheepishly. “I didn’t think about getting to this end and jumped right in after you…”

“‘S fine, now you know for next time...”

The kettle went off again, and knowing how pressed for time they were, Badger scrambled to move out of the way. Peppermint seemed too caught off-guard to do anything as they used their previous hold on her to heft her weight, managing to shift both of them awkwardly off the landing pad in time to not have Eight fall on them. The octoling looked at the pair of them, still on the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asked, tilting her head with a smile.

“N-nothing,” Badger replied awkwardly, blushing harder as they scrambled to get up.

Hatchet rolled her eyes and looked away. Badger had insisted they and Peppermint weren’t dating when she asked, but she had the feeling that either hadn’t been true, was no longer true, or wouldn’t remain so for long. _Saps._ Glancing around the room, Hatchet pulled out her phone to check the EMP had definitely done its job - pressing buttons provided no response. _Good._

The area they had landed in was not quite as the rest of the test centres were, dank and rusty. Ahead was a more familiar dull white pair of doors, just barely illuminated by the small amount of evening sunlight filtering down from the grate. Hatchet pulled out her torch to light up the area, further dispelling the darkness. The others followed as she approached the door, holding the torch in her teeth as she pulled the crowbar from her back pocket to yank the entrance open. The three of them had torches of their own this time, apparently having learned from previous experiences.

The place was silent aside from the sound of their footsteps, as the test centres always were. Just being here made Hatchet angrier. It worsened every time one of their torchlights brushed over one of the speakers, lighting up the logo peeking out from their sides. It wasn’t enough to put her in a state nearly as bad as earlier, but it was still irritating. She set about what had become her usual routine in dealing with these places, ripping doors open with her crowbar and checking for a computer before moving on.

“Hey… Think there’ll be someone here too?” Badger asked.

Hatchet ignored them, so Peppermint replied instead. “All the ones we know of so far had someone in them, so probably…”

“Should we, like… call for them or something?”

“No,” Hatchet growled. “If it pulled any of that goop shit and it’s controlling them, better if they don’t know where we are.”

“With Henry wasn’t he unconscious while the power was out?” Badger asked.

“Lavender said he collapsed when the lights went out, but then we left him in the corridor with no-one watching, so…”

“If anyone’s here we’ll just find ‘em along the way like before. It’s not like any of you knew how to be quiet,” Hatchet said coldly.

“If we _had_ been quiet, would you have found us?” Peppermint asked.

Hatchet thought back to when she tore open that door to see the pair of them trapped in the toppled blender. It was true that the noise of it falling over had drawn her to check that room next, but… “I was going through the place anyway.”

Conversation fell quiet, and they continued in silence - silence that continued. By the time they found the computer, there was no sign of anyone else there.

“Oh, is this it?” Eight asked as Hatchet went into the room.

“Mm-hmm. That part on the wall is where the computer is,” Peppermint said, shining her torch at the screen on the wall as Hatchet smashed it open with the crowbar. Once the glass was broken she cleared off the bottom section of it to get at where the wall panel was fixed on, prying it away and revealing the computer behind it. Much as she wanted to just smash it to pieces, she instead stepped aside, letting Eight at it after tearing the chassis open. Eight poked around inside for a moment, then seemed to find what she was after. She pulled out a part of it, prying it off the motherboard.

“Okay, I think this is it,” she said, backing up with the piece of hardware in her hands.

As soon as she was out of the way, Hatchet started swinging. Eight seemed to jump slightly as she moved back further. “Um, I think that may not be needed,” she said.

“Shut it,” Hatchet growled, tearing the motherboard out.

Badger quietly muttered something aside to Eight, and they left her to it. She felt like they all were watching, and it was unsettling. She was hoping to vent her anger with this, but it wasn’t helping. Instead their gazes burned into her, judging her, and she only felt worse. _Why can’t I just be alone!?_ She stopped before too long, when it was apparent there was no point, but gave it one last kick. When she turned to the rest of them, Eight was no longer there.

“Where’s she gone off to?” Hatchet growled.

“Delivering the hard drive to Marina,” Badger replied.

 _Hmph. Fine._ Hatchet strode back out of the room and onwards down the hallway, tearing open the next door. The others followed her, and a while later Eight rejoined them.

“Marina is looking into the hard drive,” she said when she joined them. “She gave me her phone, she had put it with the laptop in the box so it is working. So she can message to us if she needs.”

They all followed as Hatchet led the way further in, checking the rooms as they went. There was no sign of anyone here. It irked her - she didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be _done_ with this, she wanted to leave these people and her foul mood behind. Then again, if they did find some poor sap, and she found out their story was the same as Peppermint’s… Maybe it would be better if she left it to the others.

Trying to ignore the unpleasant thoughts, she continued, and a while later Eight spoke up.

“Oh. Marina says that there is not someone here, according to the files.”

Hatchet growled. “What a waste of time.”

“I mean, we still deactivated this place and got the hard drive,” Badger offered.

“I _know_ that, you idiot. We still wasted however long we spent here since we found the thing.” _Whatever. At least we can go._ Hatchet turned swiftly, not dawdling on her way back out.

They arrived back at the entrance after a lot of walking, and Badger showed them how to get back up, seemingly familiar with how the kettles worked. Once they were all back in the helicopter, Hatchet moved to the corner again. Her anger from before had mostly burned off, but whenever she thought back to what she had learned she felt it bubbling up again. That said, even at the best of times she wasn’t interested in mingling, staying away from the others as much as she could in the limited space.

The chopper lifted off, and Marina sat down with a second laptop, a chunky old looking thing. “That went pretty smoothly. The last two trips have gone well, thanks to the EMP. Hatchet, thank you for that.”

Hatchet nodded slightly, trying not to scowl too much at having to engage.

“How come no-one was here?” Peppermint asked.

“I had a look at the more recent files on the hard drive, it mentioned having ‘sufficient data’ and ‘terminating the experiment’...” Marina trailed off, clearly disconcerted.

 _Hmph. So it just murders its little subjects as soon as it’s finished with them._ Hatchet wasn’t surprised, but found herself unsettled nonetheless. She wasn’t sure what else she expected from the monstrous thing, but that didn’t stop it from being horrifying. _I probably would’ve ended up that way if I’d been there any longer…_

No-one seemed to be willing to further that topic, an awkward quiet falling. Marina coughed slightly, and continued. “Having the hard drive is a big plus. The info on its other sites matches what I got before, so having that extra confirmation is helpful. It provides insight on just what Tartar was testing for, as well…”

“Tartar?” Peppermint echoed.

“The AI,” Pearl chipped in. “Thing likes to be all high ‘n mighty so it dubbed itself ‘Commander Tartar’. Sounds real self-important, if you ask me.”

“On another note, the AI itself is, naturally, also present on the hard drive.”

“Gross,” Pearl interrupted.

“As I said before, this old laptop can’t do much of anything at all, so it’s harmless on there,” Marina reiterated. “It’s mostly been trying to lock me out of things with admin access but it hasn’t proved an issue so far.”

Hatchet growled slightly. She didn’t like that thing existing at all. She knew there were benefits to having the files, but she still wanted to just smash it up.

“I suppose if any of you have any questions, you could try talking to it…”

Hatchet failed to restrain the intensification of the growl, loudly voicing her clear disagreement with having anything to do with the thing.

“...Or not, it’s not like you have to,” Pearl said blithely. “Chill.”

That attitude only made Hatchet more irritated, but she said nothing. Frankly she was amazed Marina had tolerated her state today, as she had certainly failed to keep things civil. They’d still let her join, though… _Probably just because I have the EMP. She clearly recognises how useful it is. There’s no other reason they’d want me around._

Hatchet zoned out for the rest of the ride back to the city, trying to keep her thoughts from straying anywhere that might make her angrier again. Once they landed on top of the studio again, she was more than ready to leave, but as she hastily began to stride away, she heard someone hurry to catch up with her before she left. Turning, she saw Marina.

“Before you go, I just wanted to remind you of what I said earlier about having questions. Please come find us when you’re up for it,” she said.

Hatchet simply nodded slightly in response, about to turn away when the octoling spoke again.

“And… Next time, if you’re in a less than ideal state for it… Speak up. If it’s better to put it off for another day, that’s not a problem. I think everyone would prefer not to have a repeat of this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure,” Hatchet muttered irritably. _Not a problem my ass. That thing can rot, the sooner the better._

“I mean it,” Marina said, and the expression she wore wasn’t one Hatchet was expecting. It wasn’t hostile, or irritated, or disappointed. It was… quiet, watchful, but not in a way that put her on edge. “I could see you were trying today. We don’t want to make things any harder on you, so if it’s not a good time, I’d rather find one that’s better.”

 _...Whatever._ Hatchet didn’t have any response to give, waiting for a moment once she’d finished speaking but failing to find anything to say, so she walked away. She expected to hear a sigh, or some other indication of disappointment at her uncooperative attitude, but none came. She strode away, making her way back down to the square and from there out of the city centre. This whole mess of a day could be left far behind, for all she cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (picks up hatchet and wiggles her) u are so rude and awful in these early chapters but i love u  
> any comments n kudos all very appreciated!!


	8. Bursting banks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for panic attack and brief self harm this chapter

Hatchet did not sleep well - even worse than normal. For once, it wasn’t to do with the nightmares, but instead she was kept up by her questions, her anger. Why the hell was it different for her? Why had she had to suffer when no-one else had?

Even as she reluctantly tried to rest, the burning indignance prevented her, and even when it felt like she had drifted away from consciousness slightly it wasn’t far, dragged back all too soon. When morning arrived and she tired of the endless failure to sleep, bored of lying there on the beanbag, she dragged herself up, exhausted. She rarely ever felt well-rested, but today it was particularly noticeable after that awful night.

She had changed her mind about the AI - she most definitely had some questions for it now, and she needed answers, even if she hated the damned thing. Maybe on the old laptop it would be limited to text communication and at least that way she wouldn’t have to hear its shitty voice. Whatever Marina had wanted to talk about, she may as well deal with that at the same time.

Getting dressed and heading outside, she wandered, aimlessly meandering the streets. It was still early, only around six am, too early for anything to be open. If she went to the studio now it would probably be empty - or if not then at the very least Off the Hook probably wouldn’t be there yet. She had no interest in sitting around failing to sleep for any longer, though, so she went wherever, not really paying attention. She’d stuffed some fruit and snacks in her pockets and ate as she walked. Lacking energy from her failure to sleep, she found herself frequently stopping to sit on benches, tired. She needed to get this garbage off her mind so she could get some semblance of rest again.

The morning dragged by, slow and miserable. The exhaustion left Hatchet feeling awful, more than usual, but she couldn’t do anything about it. As she ambled, she stared down at the pathways, disinterested in her surroundings.

“Hatchet?”

Her gaze quickly snapped up as she heard that. Looking to where the voice had come from, she saw the green-haired inkling from Caffeine Lover, and realised she’d found herself outside the place. Izzy was at the door with a key in hand, looking over at her.

“Uhh… Are you okay? You look kind of a mess,” Izzy said.

Hatchet growled. _Sure. ‘Kind of’._ “Mind your business.”

“Phoebe was right, you _are_ a grump,” Izzy said, sighing. “What are you doing around here at this time of the morning?”

 _What part of ‘mind your business’ do people just not seem to understand?_ Hatchet rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh. That sucks.” Izzy turned back to the door of the coffee shop, unlocking it. Hatchet eyed her suspiciously.

“What about you? Last I checked, Mason’s in charge here,” she asked dubiously.

“Well yeah, she’s the manager, but she doesn’t work _every day_ ,” Izzy said. “I’m assistant manager, so whenever Mason’s not working, I always am. Gotta have at least one of us here.”

_Oh. Makes sense._

“Well, if you’re tired from not sleeping and not really doing much, feel free to come in ‘n sit down while I set up. You’re a friend of Phoebe’s, I’m sure it’s fine,” Izzy said as she went into the café.

 _Friend? That’s a stretch._ Hatchet deliberated the offer, and decided she might as well. Somewhere nicer to sit than a bench in a place without any people around? Sure. She followed Izzy inside, looking around at the empty tables.

“If you want something comfier, there’s sofas in the back room,” Izzy said, gesturing past the counter as she moved behind it and out to the kitchen. Hatchet followed her direction and went to the area tucked further away, spotting the two sofas facing each other next to the fireplace, a coffee table stretching between them. Sprawling out on one, it was indeed pretty comfy, and unlike her beanbag, she could fit her whole self on it. _Wish I could sleep on something more like this…_

She yawned, lying across the sofa with her feet dangling off the edge so as not to get any dirt from her boots on it. She stared up at the ceiling, tired. She almost felt tempted to try and doze off here, see if she would be more successful with something comfier, but knew she couldn’t. She was paranoid enough about falling asleep even when completely on her own, there was no way she’d be able to in a public space that would probably fill with people. She just wanted to be able to rest…

She closed her eyes, but kept an ear out, listening for anything relevant. She could vaguely hear Izzy doing whatever she was doing in the kitchen, and at some point a radio was turned on and ambient music began to play through the coffee shop, but it was mostly quiet. She tried not to drift back to the angry thoughts, focusing on appreciating having somewhere comfy to be. The moments ticked by, and at one point Izzy strayed back to the room she was in.

“Want something to drink?”

“Don’t have cash,” Hatchet muttered.

“It’s on the house. I’m making myself something anyway, figured I might as well offer.”

Hatchet growled slightly. “Why would you?”

“The coffee machine needs the first run done before the customers get here anyway,” Izzy said with a slight shrug. “Just to get the stagnant water from overnight out. ‘S not like it actually affects the taste or anything, but we still do it. What, are you one of these edgelords who insists nothing comes free in life?” She paused, chuckling slightly. “Sure hope I don’t end up seeing you in the same room as Cain. They've picked fights with people over that kind of attitude.”

Hatchet ignored the question and following small talk. “No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Alright, suit yourself,” Izzy said, shrugging again as she left.

Hatchet closed her eyes again once she was alone. She wasn’t interested in owing anyone any favours. She was fine accepting Phoebe’s offer since she was helping her out in return, it was already mutually beneficial. Not that she’d had much choice, but even so. There wouldn’t be any perceived debts to pick up on later. She was undecided on how she felt about Mason, having not returned since that first time, but… It did seem that with Phoebe’s deliveries she was getting something from it, too. At least, that was how she’d put it. Decent meals in return for helping Phoebe provide resources. Or maybe just for helping Phoebe in general… Mason had certainly seemed like she cared about her niece. She seemed fairly upfront about things, in any case. So she was… probably trustworthy. Maybe.

Deliberating this, the minutes ticked by. When Hatchet next checked her phone, enough time had passed that by the time she got into the city centre whatever things were open would probably be up and running. Reluctantly dragging herself off the sofa, she realised as she passed through that customers had arrived, a few of them dotted around the tables out front. She said nothing as she left, but made brief eye contact with Izzy behind the counter, now assisted by a young octoling boy. Izzy nodded to her as she went.

Leaving Caffeine Lover, she made her way towards the square. The morning had picked up enough for people to be about, and she avoided them as usual. When she arrived outside the studio, no-one was visible in the windows. _Ugh. Am I too early?_ At least at this time in the morning the square wasn’t as busy as it could be, so Hatchet took a seat on one of the benches outside the lobby. Taking the tennis ball from her pocket, she idly tossed it to herself as she waited.

A while passed, and Hatchet noticed someone come out of the side door down the little alleyway. Pearl glanced around for anyone looking and, when she noticed Hatchet making eye contact, gestured for her to come over. Hatchet pocketed the ball and got up, following as she went back into the building.

“Yo. Saw you outside.” Pearl paused, yawning. “It is _so_ too early for being awake on a weekend. You found some chill yet?”

Hatchet rolled her eyes. Of course the little shrimp had to make an annoying comment like that. She didn’t dignify it with a response. “Where’s Marina?”

“Wow, thanks for just completely brushing over me. It’s not like I’m here or at all relevant, ever,” Pearl said sarcastically.

“Oh, so you _do_ understand. Good,” Hatchet muttered acerbically. What even was this pipsqueak’s role? She didn’t seem to do anything on any of their expeditions aside from run around at Marina’s heels.

“Uh, excuse me?” Pearl said indignantly, stopping in the corridor and turning to face Hatchet. “The hell is your problem, anyway? Do you even know what I did with Eight ‘n Rina?”

 _What **isn’t** my problem these days?_ Hatchet thought sullenly. “Nope. Don’t know, don’t care.”

“Well you can thank _me_ for your ass _still being alive_ ,” Pearl said, staring up at her defiantly. “That AI bastard had a giant cannon it was going to use to wipe out this whole city. Me, Eight ‘n Rina put a stop to it. _Together._ In a _team effort._ But you don’t seem to know what that is.”

 _Really? This shit again?_ Hatchet glared down at her. “Sorry that I don’t wanna get all buddy-buddy with a bunch of saps. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the last two times we’ve been out to those places, it hasn’t managed to pull a damn thing - thanks entirely to _me._ _My_ equipment, _my_ approach, has gotten us in and out without a single issue. I don’t _need_ any _team effort_. The only reason I’m having to put up with all of you is because you refuse to tell me where the places are to do it on my own.”

“Yeah, and?” Pearl said incredulously. “If we hadn’t shown up when we did that first time we met you, it wasn’t going so great then for you, was it? You’d be dead. You’d be dead twice over if not for the three of us. The least you could do is be grateful.”

“Sure, _Marina_ helped, but what did you do?” Hatchet growled. “As far as I’ve seen, you haven’t done jack shit.”

“ _Ugh_. You’re the worst, you know that?” Pearl turned, near enough stomping down the corridor. She stepped into a small dressing room, and Hatchet saw Marina sat down with two laptops in front of her. “Rina. Tell this punk about the tower thing.”

“Hmm?” Marina looked up, spotting the two of them. “Oh, Hatchet. You mean the NILS statue?”

“Yeah. Grumpyguts here seems to think I’m deadweight, and she sure won’t hear otherwise from me,” Pearl said irritably.

Marina frowned at Hatchet. “Do you think someday we might manage a single meeting with you where you _don’t_ disrespect someone?” she asked, sighing. “Tartar had an enormous statue in the shape of a human, and it contained a cannon powerful enough to wipe out all life on the planet.”

She paused, pulling one of the laptops closer and opening up some files to show a picture of it, a great stone thing covered in purple ink with some kind of machinery jutting from the mouth. It was firing off a strange green substance that was being combatted by an enormous pink laser. “It was solar powered and we managed to cover it enough to prevent it from charging fully, but it still had enough at that point to destroy Inkopolis. The only thing that prevented that was Pearlie’s killer wail. We’d all be sushi if not for her.”

Hatchet glared down at the photo. Having been banned from ink sports so quickly, she wasn’t exactly familiar with the specials, but even she’d seen enough to know the one shown her was exhibiting more power than anyone would allow in turf war. Whether that was from boosted equipment or to do with the person wielding it, she couldn’t know, but…

“...Fine,” she admitted quietly.

“‘Fine’? That’s it?” Pearl said indignantly.

“The hell do you want from me?” Hatchet growled. “It’s not like I knew that, and in the whole time I’ve known you I haven’t seen you do a thing.”

“Gee, maybe some basic level of respect would be nice!” Pearl said, rolling her eyes. “Do you ever think that just maybe it might be worth being decent to someone even if you _don’t_ know about them?”

“Why don’t you tell that to everyone else in this shitty city!?” Hatchet snapped. “You ever heard of learned behaviour? Because this is the shit _I_ got. I arrived here after I got out of that hellhole, I met people for the first time, and what did I get for it? _Jack shit,_ is what. I’m real fuckin’ sorry that the only role models I ever got were a fucking soulless bastard of an AI, strangers throwing me suspicious stares and drunken assholes following me on the streets at night.”

“That doesn’t make it fine for you to treat everyone like _dirt_!” Pearl countered angrily. “I’m sorry you had a shit start here. Yeah, that sounds like it sucked, and from what I can tell, it seems like things still suck a lot for you. But it’s not like you’re helping yourself by treading everyone you meet into the ground! Like, _come on,_ do you _want_ anyone to be willing to help you out or not!?”

“Why don’t we take a moment?” Marina interjected before Hatchet had a chance to respond. “Let’s cool off for a second here.”

Hatchet growled slightly, but said nothing. Pearl looked aside, crossing her arms.

“It really is awful that you have to deal with what you do,” Marina said, addressing Hatchet. “But Pearl is right in that it doesn’t justify mistreating everyone around you. If it really is a ‘learned behaviour’ then it’s up to you to unlearn it. If you want things to change for you, a good place to start is with yourself.”

Hatchet tried to suppress the snarl rising, her lip twitching slightly.

“That said, with regards to getting you on your feet, I’m pretty sure the studio is thinking about hiring for a runner at the moment…”

“WHAT?” Pearl said, absolutely louder and more shocked than necessary. “You wanna suggest _her_ for that?”

“Calm down, it’s not like I’m keen on the thought of working with you either,” Hatchet muttered sullenly.

“Why not? It’s entry level, so it’s not like they can turn her away based on qualifications or lack of,” Marina replied, then turned to Hatchet. “It’s basically a role running errands for staff. It can get hectic on set, a lot of people don’t have enough time for everything, so having someone around to turn to for the little things is valuable. As long as you’re willing to do menial tasks and keep up with the pace, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t be able to do it. On top of that, if you end up working here, it’ll be a lot easier to maintain communications. Oh, on that topic, we should swap numbers so we can let you know in future when we have plans regarding the AI instead of relying on you just going and finding one of the others.”

Hatchet cocked an eyebrow, considering Marina’s words. She didn’t exactly like the sound of having to do whatever dull little jobs people needed doing, but she couldn’t turn down the prospect of pay. Regarding that latter suggestion, though… She growled slightly.

“...I don’t have a number.”

“What? Liar, I’ve seen you holding a phone, you totally have one,” Pearl said, staring at her suspiciously.

“Yeah, I have a _phone,_ but I don’t have a cod-damn sim in it,” Hatchet snapped. “I found it at the dump. Someone probably tossed it after getting something better.”

“What’s the point of a phone with no sim?” Pearl asked, still dubious.

“I can still access free wifi and tell the time with it,” Hatchet said irritably. “It’s not like I could afford anything on it anyway.”

“You can get free pay-as-you-go sims, right?” Marina asked. “If you get one of those, then even if you don’t have credit to reply to anything, we’ll at least be able to call or text you if needed. And the runner position?”

“I’m not dumb enough to turn down any kind of job prospect,” Hatchet muttered.

“Alright. I’ll talk to the manager later.” Marina looked up at her from her seat. “If you get an interview, you _are_ going to have to try and be a little more charismatic.”

“I _know_ that,” Hatchet said tersely. “Fine. I’ll get a sim and give you my number, and then just… let me know if I have one, and I’ll… try ‘n make myself presentable.”

“Good.” Marina nodded, satisfied. Pearl was still looking unimpressed with the idea, but said nothing. “With that sorted, let’s get on to why you’re here. I’m guessing you came about my questions, so thank you for coming.”

 _Well, that too…_ Hatchet said nothing, leaving her other reason for showing for now.

Marina turned to one of the laptops, flicking back through the documents she’d had open before looking back up at Hatchet. “How long have you been out of the test centre?”

 _What does that have to do with anything?_ “Don't know… Never paid attention to dates or anything.” She paused, thinking. _How many winters have I been through?_ Counting back through her memories, she reached an uncertain answer. “I reckon… about five years.”

“Mm, that matches up…” Marina said quietly, glancing back at the screen. “The first test centre we all went to together, the one in the forest, I managed to get a few files from before the EMP went off. I was having a look through them, and it had some details in it about a prior experiment that ended five years ago.”

Hatchet felt her jaw tense, felt nausea form in her gut.

“I didn’t get any of the main info, only the last couple of pages-”

“ _You can keep your nose out_ ,” Hatchet hissed, and she felt herself trembling slightly. _Don’t fucking go there. Don’t you dare._

Marina looked up at her a little uncertainly from her seat, pausing. “...I don’t know any of the details of it,” she said softly. “But comparing it to what I’ve learned from the hard drive we recovered and the test details there, it adds up. Each test centre always has a test going on, and whenever one is… ‘terminated’, a new one is soon started up, but the files I saw didn’t describe it that way. If you escaped that test centre five years ago, that matches the inconsistent description of the experiment ending and the timing. Did you recognise that place?”

 _No. I didn’t. I DIDN’T._ Those were the words she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t know for sure. She didn’t remember anything about when she escaped, and those places all looked the same on the inside. But she had recognised the feeling of going through the forest… _NO. NO. **NO.** _Some aspect of her mind was clinging to that rejection, refusing to acknowledge it - but she knew, really, that it was true. She just wasn’t willing to deal with the implications of that. Wasn’t ready. She couldn’t say anything, staring down at Marina and shaking.

“Yo, are you, uh…” Pearl sounded cautious, and Hatchet snapped her gaze towards her. “...You okay?”

 _No._ “...I can’t talk about this,” she forced out, her words shaking. The sickness rising so overwhelmingly in her was accompanied by cold, ravaging emotions, fear, shame. She backed away, wrapping her arms around herself, clutching herself tightly.

“That’s okay,” Marina said, speaking softly. Hatchet turned back to her rapidly to see the octoling watching her attentively. “Hatchet, it’s okay. There’s nothing here, it’s just us.”

 _I know that._ Knowing didn’t stop the tremors, though, didn’t stop the feelings spreading through her. She dug into the skin around her elbows again, trying to ground herself, focusing on the pain to try and root herself in reality. This was the studio, not the test centre. She was in control of her life here. No locked doors, no restraints. No anaesthetics when she slept, no waking up to realise it had happened _again,_ she had to go through starving it out _again-_

A violent shudder tore through her and she suppressed the memories. _No. Not anymore. Never again. That’s never happening to me again._

Marina stood, slowly, and as soon as the movement caught in her vision Hatchet stared at her, warily, fearfully. “Hatchet, it’s okay,” she repeated gently. “How can we help you calm down?”

 _You can’t._ Hatchet didn’t shift her gaze, watching Marina for any sudden motions. She made none, and Pearl similarly stayed put.

“Hey… You’re fine here,” Pearl offered. “D’you wanna, like… sit down or something? I could go grab the beanbag.”

Hatchet turned to her, quiet. Would that help? She doubted it, but it might be at least something. She was used to beanbags, it might provide some familiar comfort. She nodded slightly.

“Aight. Uh, that means I gotta get to the door.”

Hatchet glanced around, realising that she’d backed up right to the door to the little room. She stepped aside, watching Pearl warily as she passed and giving her a wide berth.

“You can trust us,” Marina said quietly. “I know we haven’t exactly started on the best terms, but we’re not here to hurt you. If there’s anything we can do to help, let us know, okay?”

Empty words. Hatchet _couldn’t_ trust them. How could she? No-one had ever wanted to help her. That was just a lie people used to get her to do what they wanted.

Pearl returned, holding the beanbag she was often seen sitting on in the news announcements. It was larger than the one Hatchet had, and seemed comfier. Hatchet had backed up to the corner, and Pearl looked over to her. “Here ya go.” She dropped it down about halfway between them, leaving plenty of space.

“Um, we need to get on with the broadcast…” Marina said.

“You gonna be okay?” Pearl asked, glancing at Hatchet as she dragged the beanbag over to the corner to sit in.

 _Don’t know._ Hatchet sat on the beanbag, still trembling, and didn’t respond.

“Well, uh… we’ll be back later, I guess?” Pearl seemed at a loss for what to offer. Fair.

“If you end up leaving while we’re doing the show, please leave a note or something, just so we know,” Marina said, concern lacing her voice.

Hatchet nodded bleakly. The two of them looked uneasily at each other before eventually going, closing the door behind them. As soon as she was alone in the room, Hatchet felt the urge to look for some way to barricade herself in, seal everyone out to keep herself safe. She resisted it, knowing it was unreasonable, and curled up on the beanbag tightly. Exhausted, fearful and miserable, she didn’t want to be seen.

She unravelled the raggy cape she wore from around her and took it off, using it as a blanket and shifting forms so she could hide beneath it completely. Alone and concealed, she took in deep breaths, trying to still the shaking and quell the panic that had so rapidly gripped her. Desperate to feel normal again, she stayed there, trying only to pull herself together as the time ticked past. 


	9. Quiet

Hatchet awoke to being gently shaken and jerked back from the contact, hitting her head against the wall behind her.

“Uh- sorry- it looked like you were having a nightmare, so…”

Staring up, disoriented, Hatchet saw Pearl, vaguely recognised the room around her. Narrowing her eyes, she recalled what had happened. Somewhere along the lines after the pair of presenters had left the room she’d passed out in exhaustion. Apparently in her sleep she’d shifted back to her full form again, her raggy cape awkwardly spread out over her. The tumultuous emotions of her earlier state lingered, weaker but still present.

“You… doin’ a little better?” Pearl asked.

She didn’t feel like talking, and gave a mute nod. Not as much better as she’d like, but at least a little. Sitting up on the beanbag slightly, she put her surrogate blanket back on properly, feeling awkward as she looked around. Marina was back at the laptops, but had turned to her.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability that accompanied knowing the pair of them had witnessed that mess. Some aspect of her wanted to just leave, leave this all behind, and maybe if she was lucky they could all just never speak of it again - but she knew that was unlikely. The way the two of them were watching her was different, in the tone of the worry they wore. Worried _for_ her instead of worried _by_ her. The events of that morning had already coloured their perspective of her whether she liked it or not. In any case, she had unfinished business. Recalling what had brought her back to the studio so soon, she pulled herself up, standing.

“...Let me talk to that thing.”

Both idols stared at her in surprise. “Uh, is that a good idea after… that?” Pearl asked.

Hatchet narrowed her eyes, but didn’t have any energy to fuel a proper glare. “Just do it.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the best plan either,” Marina said.

Hatchet groaned tiredly. “Listen. I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night because I was kept up by how fucking _livid_ I was. I’ve got questions and that thing better have some fucking _damn good_ answers for them. At the very least it better have _something._ Either way I need to give it a little of what’s coming for it if I want to be able to get any cod-damn rest.”

The two of them glanced at each other, and Marina slowly turned her attention to one of the laptops, the old clunky thing she’d presumably put the hard drive into.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Marina asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” Hatchet said tiredly, sarcasm creeping into her voice. “I would like to actually get some sleep tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“If you’re sure…” Marina pushed the laptop over in front of a seat next to her, a blank text box open. “It seems like it’s always keeping an eye on what’s happening and is capable of doing things, so… Just type things and hopefully it’ll respond.”

 _How terribly rudimentary._ Hatchet sat down and repositioned the laptop in front of her, scowling slightly at the screen as she began typing into the box.

>hey. asshole.

A moment passed, and nothing happened.

>dont fucking ignore me. i know youre there.

She waited briefly, and new words began to appear on the screen.

>From that attitude, I would presume it is RX17 that addresses me. How delightful that you maintain the same unsavoury persuasion.

The damned thing really _was_ in there. She immediately felt the urge to smash it up, but suppressed it. For now.

>whats the fucking deal. how come the others were just learning shit

>That was their purpose.  
>ED07 was created for the express purpose of testing the Subject One series’ capacity for learning. PS03 was for research into mental development and if there was a way to mitigate the issues that arose from the necessary isolation.  
>I would not expect you to understand.

>yeah im sure you wouldnt. and youre right. i dont. what the fuck. what did i do to deserve that?? why was i your fucking torture guisea pig

>As expected, your perspective is incorrect. My intention was not to make you suffer, only to gather data. None of your experiences were any attempt at punishment. You are irrelevant. Your own actions have no place in the equation. You organics are so insistent that things must be about you.

>the fuck does that mean

>The experiment was determined before you were even created, RX17. Nothing you did had any bearing on that. None of your actions had any effect on the test itself. Surely you must have realised that from your numerous attempts to foil it and resultant failure.

Hatchet could feel the anger rising again, her hands twitching slightly as she typed.

>so what my only purpose in life was to go through your hellish experiment

>That is correct. There is no reason for your prolonged existence. The data I required from you is complete. Even if the site has been compromised, the data on NL01 is also sufficient.

A low growl started up in Hatchet’s throat. _As long as you’re still around, I have plenty of reason to exist - wiping you off the planet._ Fresh nausea rose in her as it mentioned a new serial code, and it wasn’t hard for her to guess who it referred to.

>dont fucking talk about her  
>show me the files about me

>Those two requests are contradictory, RX17.

>shut up and show me the fucking files

For a moment nothing happened, but Hatchet barely noticed the pause, her mind elsewhere. She just wanted to delete the damn things so no-one could read them, but even having to talk to the AI about it and read its comments was dragging the truth closer into the light. She was trying very hard to ignore the words hiding between the lines, and felt her throat tighten. She couldn’t admit it to herself.

A distraction from the thoughts she couldn’t face welcomely arrived as a folder opened on the screen in front of her. The folder itself was labelled, somewhat predictably, as S1-RX17. Within were countless more files, folders and documents. Hatchet clicked back to the previous folder to highlight the entirety of the S1-RX17 folder. Right-clicking, she scrolled down the bar.

She abruptly remembered when she had spoken to Peppermint on the hospital grounds, Peppermint asking if she’d ever looked at the files and mentioned what she’d learned from her own. Well, in hindsight, it made a lot more sense that she had now. Her own files would have only detailed her learning and nothing horrific. Still… Scrolling down the bar to a different spot than initially intended, she opened up the properties section, looking for when it was created. November 18th, nearly twenty-two years ago. Good enough for her.

With that tidbit of information provided, she went back to her initial plan, hitting delete. It clearly contained a lot of files, as it spent a long time sending them to the recycle bin. Once it was done, she immediately opened that up and removed them from it, ensuring they wouldn’t be restored. In the background window containing the text file, she saw new words appearing.

>What do you hope to gain in doing that? This database is only one of many. Every other test centre continues to hold those details. It is a futile attempt.

>clam it, trashbag

 _Who’s making everything about them now?_ She watched the progress bar go along, satisfied once it showed every trace of her past removed from the laptop. Even if this damn thing knew, she could at least stop everyone else from finding out.

>so just to recap  
>there is no answer to the question of why i had to go through that

>Yes and no. There is no reason you, particularly, as an individual were chosen for it, because you were not. The reason you were used for the experiment is because you were the one created for it. You simply happen to be that subject. Someone was inevitably going to be - that someone is simply you.

>thanks! i hate it  
>hope you rot even in death, you worthless sack of garbage.

>Do you assume that if there is any afterlife, a computer construct can be considered ‘alive’ and therefore granted entry after ‘death’?

>you think i give a shit? if there is i'll find whichever sadistic bastard came up with you and i’ll personally make sure they suffer worse at my hands than anything they went through in life

Hatchet closed out the text box, adamantly clicking the close anyway button when it prompted her to save the unrecorded changes. She pushed the laptop back towards Marina, standing. The two of them seemed to have been keeping an eye on her, but neither watched from an angle that allowed them to read the conversation. At the very least they had the decency to respect her privacy.

“How are you doing…?” Marina asked gently.

 _Don’t. Just don’t._ Hatchet ignored the question, standing. “I’m done here.”

“Take care of yourself,” Marina said as she walked out.

Hatchet didn’t respond, making her way back to the door to the side alley. The square was fairly packed, and she wondered what time it was. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she checked. It seemed she’d been out for a couple of hours, and it had passed midday. She still felt pretty exhausted, but knew if she slept now it would only end up ruining her sleep schedule. She felt like she should go to the dump to get scrap, but… she felt so tired.

Well, she had other things that needed doing now. She could go and get that sim. Much as she didn’t like the prospect of going around the shopping centres in the crowds, at least it wouldn’t be too physically tiring. She knew where to find a phone shop - there had been multiple times when she’d been tempted to try and sell her own one when she was particularly strapped for cash, and the only thing that held her back was the knowledge that it would be a useful tool when going up against the AI for telling if the EMP had worked or not.

She made her way to Arowana Mall, and the place was predictably packed. Trying to stick to the sides, she found the nearest phone shop and walked in. It didn’t take too long for a member of staff to spot her. She saw the singular slightly raised eyebrow and appraising glance looking her up and down, followed by a hint of concern before they remembered their position and brought up the usual customer service smile as they walked over. Hatchet tried not to growl. _I get it, I look just as fucking homeless and freaky as I am._

“Hi there! What can we do for you? Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Just looking to get a sim card. Pay as you go one.”

“Oh, not a problem at all! Here, we have some behind the desk, the rates are…”

Hatchet zoned out and ignored the spiel on the cost of their services, disinterested given she had no plans to use them. If it was relevant, the information would probably be in the card info pack the salesperson handed to her, a whole lot more packaging than necessary for such a tiny piece of equipment. She let them finish whatever they were saying, declining when they asked if she wanted to buy credit for it now and quickly left.

Walking back out, she found a bench to sit on and took her phone out, fiddling to get the back off and insert the sim. Reassembling it and turning it back on, the little icon displaying the lack of a sim was gone when it loaded up, and she scrolled through the options and settings until she found a copy of her new number. Glancing over the cardboard packaging for the thing, she did make a quick note of the costs, just in case. Well, it _was_ possible she might have a job some time in the near future now…

She tossed the cardboard in a bin as she passed and wandered out of the mall. Figuring she may as well go give her new contact details to Marina - and Pearl, she supposed - right away, she headed back towards the studio. Would they have talked to the manager by now?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she abruptly remembered one of the barriers to employment she’d encountered in the past, and her hearts sank immediately. _Ugh. Right. No ID or anything…_ Unsurprisingly, according to any documented records, she didn’t exist. _Not like that AI would tell the rest of the world it was making us._ No paperwork tended to cause issues. Unless she found someone willing to pay her cash in hand without caring about all the technicalities, she was pretty stuck when it came to work. Somehow she doubted that would be true of the manager of the studio. The hope she’d held for such a brief period of time that things might improve was dashed, and she found herself slowing down, dragging her feet with less motivation to return to the place.

When she got back to the square, Pearl and Marina were visible through the window again. She waited near the window for them to notice her and once they did so gestured round at the alleyway. Marina nodded to her and she went to the door, soon let in.

“You’re back soon,” Marina commented.

“Went and got a sim,” Hatchet said, showing her the screen. “Here’s the number.”

“Oh, good. Thanks, here’s mine, even if just so you’ll know who it is if I message you.”

Hatchet entered Marina’s details into her phone, then looked aside, dejected. “...The job thing might be pointless,” she muttered. “I don’t have any ID or anything for proof of right to work…”

“Oh! Right, of course you wouldn’t. Don’t worry, we can get forms for that,” Marina said.

“What?” Hatchet’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. _Since when? How? What?_

“Yeah, with all the octolings that have come up to the surface in the last couple of years they’ve had to introduce new stuff for all these people showing up with no records,” Marina explained. “I mean, it’s all pretty new, they didn’t have anything like it when I first got here, but we found out about it when we were helping Eight get settled. It’s surprisingly painless. I wonder if the others know…? I’ll have to make sure to ask.”

Hatchet couldn’t say anything, blinking in surprise. It would… really be _easy_ to get proper legal documentation for herself? Marina looked at her, giving a gentle smile.

“You can get the form online, actually. We’re about to have to go on set again, I can get it up on my laptop if you want to and you can do it while we’re at it,” she suggested.

Still caught in mild disbelief, Hatchet simply nodded. Marina headed inside, Hatchet following as she led the way back to the dressing room. Pearl gave her a brief nod as the two of them arrived, looking like she was trying not to be _too_ hostile. Marina crossed to her laptop and quickly opened up a new browser window, searching something and clicking through a few webpages until she found what she was after.

“Here, fill that out,” she said, turning the laptop towards Hatchet. Hatchet took a seat in front of the laptop, looking through the form briefly as Marina and Pearl headed out of the dressing room. “We’ll be back later!”

The two of them left Hatchet alone, and not soon after, she heard Pearl in the corridor, apparently forgetting to quiet her voice as she quite audibly wondered ‘what her deal was, anyway’. Ignoring it and scrolling to the top, Hatchet began filling out the form, titled as New Resident Applicant - only to very quickly be brought to a halt at only the second box. Last name. She’d never bothered to think about one.

 _Uhhh…_ Presumably given the form was for people with no current legislation it wouldn’t matter that she didn’t have anything to back it up, so… She should be able to choose anything. But what? What were last names even based on? Well, she had a laptop with internet access right in front of her, so searched for an answer to that question. The top result went into some detail on the history of surnames, describing their relevance and derivation based on the important aspects of society in the time of a given surname’s adoption. A whole bunch of it sounded relatively meaningless to her, but somewhere it mentioned surnames based on occupations or characteristics. If she were to give herself a last name based on what she did… Well, the most significant thing she did was take down the AI. Something to do with that?

 _Might as well start with my favourite tool._ She pulled up the winkipedia page for electromagnetic pulse. Scrolling through the theory, a particular sentence caught her eye – ‘ _Due to Maxwell's equations, a pulse of any one form of electromagnetic energy will always be accompanied by the other forms, however in a typical pulse one form will dominate._ ’ She didn't really understand it fully, but the name drew her attention. Maxwell. Presumably the name of a scientist whose work had been relevant to the study of electromagnetic radiation and therefore the development of EMPs. Well, their name wouldn’t be the first thing she’d stolen, and probably wouldn’t be the last. _Hatchet Maxwell. Has a decent ring to it…_

Decided, she filled out the box. Next up, date of birth. _Hmm. Good thing I did bother to look at that before I deleted the files. Dunno if it’s actually accurate, but…_ She filled that in with the date the folder had been listed as being created on. Date of arrival on the surface, she guessed in the spring five years ago, putting in a random date at the end of April. Onto the next box. Address. _Ah. That might be a problem._ If they were going to send her some kind of ID or something back, they’d need somewhere to post it to. Dissatisfied, Hatchet sighed to herself. Not sure what to do for now, she left it blank, working her way through the rest of the form.

There was a long, tedious section detailing an apparently ‘brief’ overview of the surface, inkling culture, laws and expectations, and a few lines requiring signatures to confirm agreement to the above, all the details provided are true to the best of one’s knowledge, etc. etc. Reaching the final page, Hatchet paused, flicking back up to the address section once everything else was complete. _What should I do about that…?_

Uncertain and caught out, she deliberated the form for a while, narrowing her eyes at the screen as if glaring at it could make the problem go away. Eventually as she sat, frustrated, Marina and Pearl returned.

“How’s it going?” Marina asked.

“Filled out everything on the form part but this…” Hatchet muttered.

“Oh. Right, of course,” Marina said. “Well, you can put in mine for now, if you want. When they send something I’ll let you know.”

Familiar suspicion sparked in Hatchet’s mind, and her instinct was to demand to know _why_ Marina would offer that - but on the other hand… she really needed to be able to get proper employment. This wasn’t something she could just not do based on her distrust. She didn’t _like_ having to rely on anyone else, but…

“...Sure,” she agreed. Marina quickly typed an address into the form, one that Hatchet made a brief mental note of before slowly adding a muttered word. “...Thanks…”

Marina’s gaze flicked from the screen to her, and she gave a small smile. “You’re welcome,” she said quietly. She gave the form a quick check, scrolling through. “Looks like it’s all done, so might as well print it off now,” she said, picking up the laptop and walking out of the dressing room. Hatchet followed her as she went down the corridor and into a different part of the building, into what looked like an office. Connecting her laptop to a printer, she set the file to print, opening out one of the drawers and grabbing an envelope to hand to Hatchet. “Here, the address to send it to is on the webpage. We don’t have any stamps, you’ll have to take it to a post office. You’ll need a passport photo to send with it too, most post offices can do that, I think.”

Taking the envelope, Hatchet looked back at the laptop screen, finding the address needed and picking up a pen from the desk to copy it down. Marina passed her the printed form and she folded it up, stuffing it into the letter and closing it. Staring down at the envelope, Hatchet was uncertain. She didn’t have any more business here, but should she say something before leaving? She’d already said thanks. It would be awkward to say it again, right…?

“Are you going to go post that now, then?” Marina asked.

“...Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know as soon as we get anything for you. Exit’s down the hallway on the right out of here.”

Hatchet left swiftly, finding herself once more uncomfortable in the face of having to deal with the feeling of gratitude and not really knowing how to use them. Was that going to become a regular issue? She hoped not. _Ugh. If all this works out and I get on my feet properly I won’t have to rely on anyone and it’ll be fine. I can go back to sticking to myself and not needing to deal with this._ There was a post office not far off, and she had enough change to afford the stamp and use the photo booth. Printing off a photo to put in the envelope and sealing it, she put it into the post box affixed to the building, finally leaving the town centre. If all this really did work out… she might actually have some semblance of a future.

Things really _were_ changing for her, and not at any slow pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i specifically started posting it so that this chapter would release on nov 18th, happy birthday hatchet  
> given (gestures vaguely at this site's latest display of garbage) i have been considering hosting my works elsewhere but not really decided yet.... will let yall know if i do. as always, feedback is super appreciated, i would love to know what people make of The Foreshadowing™ so far bc it is hard to tell how easy it is to piece things together from the available content when i already know all the details. thanks for readin so far, hope yall have a good day!


	10. Nodal point

The next few days passed without much incident, aside from feeling sick. Hatchet’s anger had subsided, but she still found herself sleeping worse - much as she tried to put it out of her mind, the conversation and underlying implications of the chat with the AI lingered. Her usual routine of collecting scrap and picking up fruit from the stand fell back into place, and she didn’t hear anything with regards to any new plans from anyone - or about any post, either.

On one hand she supposed whatever came of filling out that form might take a while - if it really was only made available by a surge of octolings having appeared, there might be a backlog of them to get through. On the other hand, there was an insistent suspicion in her mind that even if it arrived it would be withheld from her as leverage for something or other. She tried not to think too much about that - either way, it was done now.

More notable right now was the thought of Mason and her offer. Saturday had come around, and Hatchet was on her way to help out at Phoebe’s stand. She still didn’t particularly care for the crowds or engaging with customers much, but it wasn’t too bad. If she was busy with a set task like weighing things and relaying information at least it might keep her mind occupied enough to give her some relief from the topics she was trying to avoid. Arriving, she wandered around to Phoebe’s side of the stall, nodding to the inkling.

“‘Atchet,” Phoebe greeted. “Glad ta see ya. Same as usual?”

“Sure.”

The place was as busy as a Saturday usually was, and they got on with the work, Phoebe fine to neglect conversation on the occasions it grew quieter. Hatchet deliberated whether or not to go to Caffeine Lover in her idle moments. When Mason had first made the offer to her, Phoebe had been off chatting with Izzy - would Mason have told her about it since then? She wasn’t sure.

Contemplating this, she was lost in thought, and jumped in surprise when suddenly a sound emanated from one of her pockets, an automated tune accompanied by noisy vibrations. Grabbing her phone and pulling it out, Hatchet looked down at the screen. Marina was calling her. Hatchet glanced up at Phoebe, who gave her a brief shrug, nodding. She took that to mean it was fine thanks to their current lack of customers, answering the call and stepping back from the counter.

“Hey.”

“Hatchet, hi. How are you?”

Hatchet rolled her eyes. _Are we really messing around with these bullshit pleasantries?_ “Fine,” she lied.

“Glad to hear it. I spoke to the manager, and she’s happy to do an interview, she said Tuesday afternoon suits best, two pm. Is that fine for you?”

Hatchet blinked slightly in surprise. She hadn’t even gotten her paperwork sorted yet. On top of that, she’d ended up having pessimistic thoughts about whether anyone would even really consider her… “...Yeah, two pm works.”

“Good, I’ll let her know. Do you have any appropriate interview clothes? If not, you’re the same height as me, you could borrow something of mine and it’ll probably fit okay.”

The biting suspicion was at the forefront of her mind, loud, demanding. Hatchet furrowed her brow, concentrating on pushing it down. _I need a fucking job, damn it._ “...I don’t have anything… So that’d be… helpful.”

“No problem. Let’s see, if you come by the studio on Monday at some point, I’ll bring a set of clothes you can wear for it. Can’t guarantee they’ll be a perfect fit, but it shouldn’t be too bad, and it’ll be something appropriately formal, at the very least.” Marina paused slightly, but Hatchet had nothing to say, so the silence went unfilled until the octoling continued. “Also, we’ve picked out the next place to hit the AI at. We won’t have as many people, since Agents Eight and Three are on patrol with the Captain and Peppermint is taking care of Nattie, but given how successful the last two times have been it shouldn’t be an issue. Henry’s opted to help out in the meantime, too.”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes slightly. She hadn’t seen Henry since that first day when she got mixed up with the lot of them, but… There was a strong lingering dislike for him. Controlled by the AI or not, that bastard had fucking _shot_ her. She held the growl threatening to form, restraining it. “Why’s _he_ tagging in?”

“We weren’t sure about how low on numbers we’d be, so he volunteered. On top of that, from what I hear from Eight, he’s surprisingly competent for someone with no memories. Turf war may not be the same as actual combat, but he shows a skill level far beyond that you’d expect of someone with no experience.”

The low irritable rumble in her throat escaped her, quietly voicing her displeasure. “...Fine. As long as he doesn’t hold me back.”

“It’ll still be less people than usual, so that should still be preferable for you, right?”

_Well, she’s not wrong…_ Hatchet didn’t respond, so Marina continued.

“We’ll be going on Thursday, so if you could show up at the studio at seven pm, we’ll be ready and waiting.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’ll see you Monday, then.” Hatchet heard a quiet amused huff on the other end of the line. “Maybe try and brush up on your people skills a little before the interview.”

Hatchet growled, pulling the phone away from her and staring down at the screen indignantly. _Sure, poke fun at me, why don’t you? It’s not like I have enough shit to deal with as it is._ Deciding that wasn’t worthy of a response, she hung up. A bitter feeling rose in her as the old suspicion grew stronger.

“Everythin’ alright?” Phoebe asked.

Hatchet looked aside, still scowling. “Fine.” Well, really it was… better than that, actually. Even with the dig at her, it didn’t change that she had a _job interview._ And so soon… _Tuesday afternoon…_ If she was going to do any prep she had only a couple of days to do it. It technically wouldn’t be her first, as she’d worked out the necessity of money fairly quickly after arriving, almost even getting one at one point - it had only been the lack of any legal documentation that had stopped her then. At the time there hadn’t been any way to fix that, no amount of online searches turned up any kind of help, not unless she could afford to pay for legal advice. Even so, it had been a few years, and she wasn’t exactly the best at getting people to like her.

_I only need a good first impression._ If she could manage to fake a good mood for it, try and maybe even smile a little, go along with small talk and make conversation… If she could manage that, the only other issue would be her presentation. If she went fairly late tomorrow to the campsite to wash, then by the time the interview came around it would still be less than 48 hours since showering, that wasn’t too bad, right? With Marina offering to lend her decent clothes, the only other issue was trying not to look too haggard. Too bad she still had never found anything that helped her sleep decently.

Then there was the matter of interview questions. It occurred to her that she didn’t really know much about the role she was applying for, or even the name of the studio. She just knew what Marina had told her about it being doing odd jobs around the place.

“Ya sure look like somethin’s on yer mind,” Phoebe said, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Hatchet kept her gaze elsewhere, tapping one of her feet and letting out a disconcerted sigh. “...Got an interview on Tuesday.”

“Oh, fer eel?” Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she gave a crooked smile. “Good on ya. ‘Ope it goes well.”

“Mm.” Drumming her fingers on one of the fruit boxes, Hatchet deliberated saying more. Normally, she wouldn’t dream of it, but normally, people were nosy pricks. Phoebe, on the other hand, did not press her for details or chitchat she didn’t want to give. Phoebe seemed to accept the bare minimum and let Hatchet stay as quiet as she liked - and that respect for her privacy even just in basic conversation wasn’t something she expected of anyone, wasn’t something anyone had offered her before. Granted, she didn’t exactly give many people the opportunity, but still… It left a certain impression, and Hatchet found herself feeling a little more willing to talk. “Not sure my interview skills are up to scruff…”

“That so? Ya could always chat wi’ Mason about it. I reckon she’d be fine to do some practise wi’ ya, she does interviews ‘erself, bein’ manager an’ all,” Phoebe suggested.

Hatchet paused, considering it. Getting in a first attempt wouldn’t be a bad idea. If Mason was used to being on the other side of interviews, too, presumably she’d be good at offering advice on where to improve. Mason _had_ seemed pretty transparent about things, too, so… “...Sure. I could do that.”

Phoebe smiled slightly. “Coffee shop’s always quiet after ‘round two, gets a lull after the lunch rush an’ before the work day finishes, drop in then.”

Hatchet nodded, saying nothing more. A few more customers appeared, helping to end the conversation. The time passed, and soon enough Hatchet was ready to leave the stand, grabbing a few pieces of fruit to stuff in her pockets.

“Thanks fer yer ‘elp,” Phoebe said. “Gonna ‘ead to Mason’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Good on ya.”

Reaching for the fruit, Hatchet didn’t notice Phoebe move, jumping erratically when she felt the pat on her back and quickly turning, backing away. She managed to stop herself before swiping at Phoebe’s hand, stifling the growl in her throat as she paused. “Don’t do that,” she said sharply, her eyes narrowed in a glare that she pointed aside.

Phoebe quickly backed up, blinking, hands raised defensively. “Uh. Aight. Aight, no touchin’, I can get that. My bad.”

Hatchet felt her mood sour, refusing to make eye contact as she walked away. Once she was out of the market, she breathed out a heavy sigh. _Well, at least I didn’t just straight up punch her…_ The sudden contact had set her on edge, and she still felt the adrenaline it had poured through her. Disconcerted, she growled. _Why!? Why does something as simple as a friendly gesture do this? Why am I like this!?_ She knew the answer, of course. She just didn’t know how to change it. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she tried to get back to a calmer state as she went to Caffeine Lover. The walk was long enough for her to settle down before she arrived, and by the time she walked through the door she was about back to normal.

Looking around the little coffee shop, the place wasn’t too busy, as Phoebe had predicted for this time of day. There were a scattered few tables occupied, but not too many. In one corner she spotted Mason, sitting with a laptop at a table not too conspicuous but still allowing her full view of the front room and the counter. Hatchet wandered over to her.

“...Hey.”

Mason looked up at being addressed. “‘Atchet. ‘Ow’s it goin, ya still ‘elpin’ Phoebs out?”

“Yeah. Just came from there.” Hatchet looked aside, brow furrowing slightly as she wondered how to bring it up. She felt far from comfortable with all this, but she needed a job, needed anything that could increase her chances. “She said I could probably talk to you about… interview stuff. Got one on Tuesday.”

“That so?” Mason pulled the rest of her attention away from the laptop, leaning back against her chair. “She ain’t wrong, I’ve been on both sides. Lookin’ fer tips or practise?”

Uneasy, Hatchet tapped one of her feet against the floor, trying to work through the discomfort. “...Both, I guess. Or either.”

“Aight, both it is. Let’s go ‘round back.” Mason shut the laptop and picked it up as she stood, leading the way to the back room. It was largely empty aside from a couple of inklings on the sofas near the fireplace, and Mason took her over to a small table on the other side of the room. “Well, thanks fer comin’,” she said, offering a hand to shake. “‘Ave a seat an’ let’s talk.”

_Oh. Straight into it. Alright then._ Trying not to be too surprised, Hatchet shook her hand, sitting down. Mason asked her a number of questions, throwing in occasional bits of small talk. Hatchet did her best to give what she thought were appropriate answers, even trying to respond with vague chitchat of her own here and there. There were plenty of things she hadn’t considered, some of which were easy to respond to and some not so much. Things like what was her availability (easy, all the time, she was completely flexible), what did she think made her suited for the role (uhhhh. Just being capable of doing things seems like a poor answer here), what made her want to work for the company (saying she just needed a job probably wouldn’t be great). Once their practise interview was over, Mason gave her an overview of how she did.

“Well, there’re a bunch o’ things ya didn’t really know ‘ow to answer, but ‘opefully now ya’ve been asked once ya’ll think about it. Even if the answer ya give is a bunch o’ trite, ‘avin’ one ta offer looks a lot better than sittin’ wi’ yer tongue ‘angin’ out,” she said. “‘Ave a think about what ya might say if they ask that. An’ if ya get a chance an’ ‘aven’t done so already, ‘ave a look online at the company so ya ‘ave a general idea what they do. Knowin’ some background an’ showin’ ya’ve done yer research looks good.”

Hatchet nodded. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know the name of the studio. It shouldn’t be too hard to find, though - if she just found out whatever studio currently hosted Off the Hook, that’d be the one.

“Ya might wanna try a bit more on the small talk. Even if I’ve seen ya otherwise an’ know that was you when yer puttin’ effort in, it was still a li’l stiff. An’ try an’ come across friendlier. People wanna ‘ire folks they reckon they’ll get along with.”

“Right…” Hatchet was not exactly surprised that was an area she needed to work on. She wasn’t exactly good at seeming like someone anyone would want to be friends with. Mostly because she didn’t _want_ to be friends, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to pretend otherwise, but that attitude didn’t serve her well in this situation.

“If anythin’s available to ya to try an’ clean yerself up a bit, do that too,” Mason said gruffly. “From the sounds o’ things, I’d understand if ya can’t, but whoever’s interviewin’ ya won’t.”

Hatchet sighed quietly. “...Yeah, I know that. Someone’s… Someone I know offered to lend me a better outfit for it.”

“Oh, that so? Good ‘f ‘em.” Mason picked up the laptop again, standing. “Well, ‘s about all I got ta say on that. Ya want somethin’ ta eat while yer ‘ere?”

“Don’t have cash.”

“Yeah, I know that, an’ I’m offerin’ it fer free.”

Hatchet blinked, a little surprised. _Yes. Yes, food is very good._ “...Sure.”

Mason let out an amused huff as she walked through to the front. “Come an’ ‘ave a look then, might as well choose given yer ‘ere yerself this time around.”

Hatchet followed her through, looking up at the menu displayed on the wall. Izzy was present behind the counter, and the young octoling boy she’d seen in here with her before was cleaning tables. She ordered a lasagne, then wandered over to where Mason had sat down again, back at her laptop in the corner.

“...Anything I can do to… I dunno, help you out or anything?” Hatchet asked.

“Why’sat?” Mason said, glancing up at her.

Hatchet looked aside, disgruntled. “I’m not a fan of owing anyone favours.”

“I ain’t really considerin’ ya owe me, but if ya insist.” Mason paused, thinking briefly. “‘Ow’s this: even if ya get the job, keep ‘elpin’ Phoebs out ‘ere an’ there.”

Hatchet didn’t pause long to think about it. That was more than fine with her. Even after she got a job, free fruit would still be worth having access to, so it would still be worth her while.

“Sure.”

“Aight, do that an’ we’re even then.”

Mason turned back to the laptop, clearly not thinking anything more of the conversation. Hatchet was fine with that, taking a seat in an unoccupied corner. It wasn’t long before the lasagne arrived, and once again it was some of the best food she could remember having. She’d thought her ability to cook was alright, given she’d had to feed herself at the test centre, but she was pretty sure she’d never made anything that managed to taste this good. It was another big portion and once more she struggled to finish but did so anyway, staying sat for a while in the corner until she felt less bloated. Once it died down, it was good to feel properly full.

Finally getting up a while later, she caught Mason’s eye on her way out and gave a slight nod. Mason offered a brief wave in response before going back to her work. Hatchet appreciated that she didn’t have to say too much with her. Another shared trait between her and Phoebe. Even if they didn’t physically resemble one another too much, the commonalities in their personality made it obvious they were related, or at the very least Mason’s mannerisms must have rubbed off on Phoebe a fair amount.

Feeling a little better after a decent meal, Hatchet ambled back to the warehouse, fairly relaxed on her walk. Once she neared it, however, she noticed there was a lot more noise around than usual - and people. Not interested in being around that, she quickly slipped inside through the hole in the wall, only to see the place occupied - and not by just a single person this time.

The old doors to the warehouse that had been locked and rusted shut for as long as she had been there were open, and there were a handful of people in dirty overalls and thick work boots inside. She blinked in surprise, quickly looking over to her stuff. Someone was picking through it.

“ _HEY!_ Get off that!” She quickly rushed over, grabbing the generator out of their grasp.

“Oh, this must be _your_ junk,” the inkling said, sizing her up before calling over to the others. “Oi, they’re here.”

Hatchet growled, snatching up the components of the EMP to stuff in her pockets. “The hell are all of you doing here?”

“Place is signed off for demolition. You better clear on out of here and find somewhere else to squat, it’ll be coming down on Monday.” The inkling glanced aside, checking where everyone else was before dropping to a lower whisper. “Seriously, don’t push this. The boss is a known asshole, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the place down with you still in it.”

_Yeah, I’ll bet he wouldn’t, and nor would you, either._ Hatchet narrowed her gaze, glaring, but more of them were coming over, and she knew if they all tried to get her out they’d succeed. She hastily grabbed the leftover snacks and her spare clothes, stuffing everything she could into her pockets. Torch into one back pocket, crowbar in the other, phone and associated cables in one side pocket, EMP wires in the other. The pockets on her legs soon filled with the clothes and the generator, and she was left having to fold up the blanket and remaining belongings to stuff into the plastic bag alongside the snacks. She could carry the beanbag with her, but… Where could she go?

The first inkling that had seen her seemed relieved, breathing out a quiet sigh. “Thanks for being co-operative. And… sorry.”

“Oh yeah, I’m fucking sure you are,” Hatchet spat. Frustration tore through her, and she could feel tears forming in her eyes. Why now? Why couldn’t this have waited just a little longer? Long enough for her to maybe get this job and be able to get an actual home? Refusing to be seen on the verge of tears, she grabbed the beanbag, stuffing it through the hole in the wall before going out herself. She stormed away from the building, going to the only other place she knew of that would be empty - the dump. Even as she walked, she felt wet streams start to run down her cheeks, and she stifled the sobs that formed into hiccups, catching on the lump in her throat.

_Why? Why this? Why now? What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?_ Anger and misery rose, and she kicked at a piece of trash, catapulting the small bit of junk across the dumping ground and into another pile. She let out a noise halfway between a shout and a sob, letting the tears flow freely now that she was alone, doing nothing to restrain the loud cries escaping her.

_“WHY ME!?”_ she screamed at the empty garbage, dropping the things in her hands. _“W-WHY IS IT LIKE- LIKE THIS!? WHY DO I H-HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS!?”_

The vacant wasteland around her was silent, offering no answer. She picked up another scrap, an empty can that she flung across the landscape of miscellaneous nothing. Of _course_ something like this would happen. As soon as it looked like things might improve, as soon as it might get _better,_ of course this would have to happen. She howled, the wretched noise of her sorrow echoing out across the dump.

Going back to where she’d dropped the beanbag, she sank down on it, curling up tightly and clutching at her head, digging into her scalp. Nothing ever changed. Her life was just misery, misery, followed by even more misery. Anguished and alone, she cried, cried until she couldn’t any more.

It was probably around an hour later that she finally grew still. Her eyes had run dry, her voice hoarse, her throat tight. The ragged breaths that she tore in and out eventually evened. She wasn’t exactly calm, but she was closer to it than before. Enough so to consider correcting her previous thoughts.

_I’ve done this before._ She started with that simple fact. _Before I found the warehouse it was like this too. And I got through it._ She was better off now than she had been then - she was older, understood who to avoid better, the few places she could go to like the library, and she had more than just the clothes on her back. Not much more, but she did. The blanket and beanbag would still provide a makeshift bed, and at least it was still summer. The end of summer, but summer nonetheless. She had more resources available to her now, too. Fruit from Phoebe. Meals from Mason.

She sat up, drawing in a deep steadying breath. She still had the interview on Tuesday. This wasn’t the end. It was a setback, for sure, but… If she got the job… Maybe soon she would be able to get something _better_ than the warehouse. If she got the job, she’d be in a better position than ever before. There was hope yet. It all rode on that one interview, but nevertheless - she wasn’t giving up yet. 


	11. Who you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for brief suicidal thoughts, another nightmare w mention of self harm, and the most description there is of what happened wrt hatchet's past trauma. still vague about the specifics but yeah.. i will be honest i am not sure how best to put the warnings for this chapter bc i think the nightmare stuff is probably vague enough that if u don't know what it's talking about it probably isnt that bad but if u Do then its probably a lot more unpleasant... if anyone has any suggestions on how to warn for it best i will be glad to hear them

That night, Hatchet slept in the dump, curled up on her beanbag in an area that didn’t smell too offensive. Even in the late summer months, it grew cold enough to be uncomfortable, and she ended up waking in the night, shivering. Huddling under her blanket, she pulled out the fleece hoodie to wear over her shirt, wrapping her raggy cape around herself as well. Even just one night out exposed to the elements reminded her of how necessary a roof over one’s head was - as soon as it started to rain much, she’d be in trouble. She needed to find somewhere else to stay, as soon as possible.

The next morning she woke early, uncomfortable and cold. Reaching for the bag she’d stuffed her food supplies in, she grabbed something to eat, forcing it down despite the sickness she felt, exacerbated by the stress of the situation. Getting up, she wandered through the dump.

_Somewhere_ amongst all this trash there must be things she could use, some way of making herself a bit of shelter. Even if all it did was provide a cover over her to keep out the wind and rain, that would be enough. Just a few days ago she’d found and dismantled a large metal framework of something or other to take to the scrapyard, if only she had that now she could find material to drape over it… Picking her way through the rubbish with different treasures in mind, she tried to find anything that could help.

After a while of wandering around, she abruptly remembered something she’d seen on the other side of the place - some big old vehicle that had just been left there, she wasn’t sure what. It had been there ever since she found the place and just become part of the scenery, but thinking about it, it might provide some amount of cover. She went over to where it was, looking it over. It had probably been some kind of farming vehicle, given the size of the vacant holes for the tires. Indeed, just one of the large rusted mudguards was big enough to fit the beanbag under to sleep on. If she found something weather-proof to help provide shelter, it could work. Going back to where she’d left her things, she picked them up and brought them over to the old rusted heap, leaving them under one of the mudguards.

Walking away, she picked her way through the various heaps of garbage, looking for anything she might be able to drape over the mudguards to make some kind of entry to her little shelter. After an hour of searching, she was beginning to wonder if her efforts would be fruitless when she found the remains of a tent - incomplete, as there were no pegs or poles to be found, but the watertight fabric would be more than helpful. It had tears here and there and a patch of mould growing on it, but it would do. Taking it over to the vehicle, she draped it over the mudguard with the mould facing towards the innards of the old machine, away from where she’d be breathing.

Positioning it so it would cover the underside of the mudguards completely, she went to look for things to secure it in place, anything solid and heavy that would stay there if she balanced it on the mudguard. Finding an old microwave with a shattered door window, she propped that up on top of it, then grabbed a few more things for the corners of the tent where it managed to reach the ground. Stepping back, she looked over what she’d prepared for herself. It was far from perfect, but it was better than nothing in the meantime. It wouldn’t do much for her against the cold, but… Hopefully, _hopefully_ she could get something better before that became too much of an issue.

Shuffling into her little shelter and sitting on the beanbag, she checked the time. Almost midday. She’d spent all morning on her attempt at cover. She breathed out a heavy sigh, tired from lugging everything about after sleeping worse than her already-poor usual. Rifling through the bag, she took out more snacks to eat.

Lying there for a while, she stared up at the rusted mudguard, her new ceiling so low she couldn’t even stand up. A sullen misery that had been lurking all day swelled within her, and she felt tears begin to form. _I don’t want to go through this. Not again. I don’t think I **can.** _She rolled over onto her side, pulling the blanket over her and letting the wet fall from her eyes into the fabric of the beanbag. She was so tired. Exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just… stop? Let it end? She’d wondered before if there was any point in continuing. Couldn’t she just… not?

_“If you had stayed, your misery could have ended so much sooner.”_

That sentence replayed itself in her mind, reminded her of one of the last things she’d had to hear in that damned AI’s voice, and she growled. _That_ was it. That was what pushed her forward, even now. That thing was still out there, and she had a debt to repay - and it _was_ going to suffer, some way or other. Wiping her eyes off and getting up again, Hatchet shook her head, clinging to the burning spite. That thing _wanted_ her gone, and that was reason enough to stay. It wanted to say her life had no purpose? She’d damn well _give it_ purpose, just it wait and see.

Holding tight to the resolve her grudge granted her, she thought of what she needed to do. She couldn’t take anything to the scrapyard to sell, it wouldn’t be open. She could go and wash, but the later she did that the better - anything to help herself be better prepared for the interview. Maybe she’d leave it until tomorrow, just so there would be less time for any stink from the junkyard to try and cling to her after she got clean. What else?

Well, on the topic of interview preparation… She hadn’t appreciated the tone, but what Marina had said about brushing up on people-skills was true enough. On top of that, she had yet to act on Mason’s suggestion of looking up the company to have a decent idea of what they did. Coming to a decision, Hatchet finally emptied her stuffed pockets into her new shelter, leaving the things she didn’t need on her next to her beanbag. She kept with her the tennis ball, a couple of snacks, her phone and charger, and her water bottle.

Heading into the city, she made her way to the library. She’d be able to fill up the bottle and charge her phone for free there, and could use the computers to look up the studio. There might be books on interview techniques or conversational pointers, too. This interview was too important an opportunity to let slip by - she would make sure she gave it the best shot she could.

Hatchet spent the rest of the afternoon at the library, even deciding to borrow a book for once when it closed up. She’d found one with a section on interview skills, and spent her evening reading through it. At least the long summer evenings allowed her to keep reading until late with only the natural daylight required. Bundling up in all the layers available to her once she finished reading, she resigned herself to another chilly night. Hopefully having some amount of cover would help at least a little.

* * *

She could feel it there. It wasn’t enough to be visible, but she knew it was there, and she couldn’t stand it. She didn’t want this, she’d never wanted this, but that damned _voice_ emanating in the empty halls demanded it to be so. She felt so sick, and so hungry, but she refused to eat. Not until it was gone. Not until she bled, even if it tore away at her, ravenous and thinned by her starvation.

She won that time. She held out, didn’t feed herself, didn’t feed _it,_ and it was expelled. But for how long? That _thing_ would only do it again. She knew it would. As soon as she fell asleep, she’d be strapped back on that table. She _couldn’t_ sleep. She _mustn’t._ But her eyes drooped, and no matter how much she tore at her skin, no matter how much pain she forced onto herself, she couldn’t stay awake forever.

_“Your defiance is pointless, Subject One. There are only two possible outcomes to this situation: you allow it to happen to completion, or you lose your own life trying to stop it. No matter how many times you go through this, these are the only options.”_

She couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep starving herself over and over. She had to find a way out, some escape from this hell. Before it got what it wanted.

She didn’t find it in time.

She ran, and ran, and arrived at the city, surrounded by so many faces, so many she didn’t know, old, new, ones she didn’t recognise, one she didn’t, she definitely _didn’t,_ but-

Hatchet jolted awake, breathing heavily. She sat up, clutching the blanket tightly, rapidly looking around her. Her sudden movement almost saw her hit her head on the rusted mudguard as the morning light showed her where she was. Another nightmare. Another reminder. But there was something new in it, this time. She couldn’t remember what, but she was sure that there had been.

Shuddering and trembling, Hatchet lay down again, pulling the blanket to cover her and hiding beneath it as she tried to steady her breathing. What was it? What was it that had been different? Something at the end? She couldn’t pull it from the dream, couldn’t drag it into the light. It didn’t take long for her to give up, squeezing her eyes shut tight and willing the awful thoughts away. She didn’t want to think about any of that.

She let the moments pass, trying to calm down, and eventually got up. Still shivering slightly, she pulled out some snacks from her supplies. She was running low, and would have to restock soon. It would be worth going by the market to get more fruit, too. Checking the time, it was still too early for anything to be open, so she figured she’d do that later. In the meantime, she could go and wash. The campsite was open at all hours, after all.

Before she left, she poked around the junkyard for anything she’d be able to hang her clothes up on afterwards. She managed to find a curtain pole, bent and rusted in places, and propped it up near the old farming equipment. Looking around until she found an appropriate substitute for a clothes wire, she eventually settled on a bungee cord. She had to secure the curtain pole pretty stiffly to make sure it didn’t just fall over with the pressure of the cord trying to go back to its relaxed state, but managed. It wasn’t very long, but it would do.

As before, she stuffed the currently cleaner clothes into the pockets of her cargo pants, then made her way to the campsite to wash. The walk was long as ever, but the sun was warm enough even in the early morning that it wasn’t too bad. By the time she’d gotten there, showered and washed her other clothes, it had gotten fairly hot out, and she was glad for the moisture that clung to her after her improper drying helping to keep her cool as she walked back. Hanging up her wet clothes to dry on the bungee cord, she headed towards the market.

She was about halfway there when her phone went off, making her jump. She still wasn’t used to it _doing_ anything. Pulling it out, once more it was Marina calling her, and she answered.

“Hey.”

“Oh, Hatchet! I’m glad you picked up. It’s Nattie, she’s disappeared again.”

Hatchet blinked slightly. _So the dumb kid ran off again._ “So why are you calling me?”

“Well, you were the one who found her last time. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“I dunno, last time she was just in the-”

The warehouse. The warehouse that was set to be demolished. _Today._

“In the what? ...Hatchet?”

_Oh, shit._ Hatchet hung up, setting off at a sprint. _She can’t be there. She wouldn’t go back there, right? Or they’d see her, and not let her in, right? They’d check first, wouldn’t they?_

_“The boss is a known asshole, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the place down with you still in it.”_ The inkling’s words resounded in her mind, and she prayed they weren’t true, that they’d been bluffing to get her to leave.

Hatchet kept sprinting, even when her legs began to burn, even when she was breathless and felt like her lungs would burst. Arriving at the warehouse, it was taped off, warding away any outsiders. Hatchet ducked under the tape, heading round to the side where the hole was and squishing her way in. As soon as she was in she looked around, desperately hoping she was wrong.

“Where’d everything go?”

Hatchet heard the voice and snapped her attention to it, seeing Nattie.

“Not… here… have to go,” she panted, out of breath.

“Why?”

_This isn’t the time for stupid kid questions!_ Hatchet tried to stay calm, not wanting to make her panic and struggle with her forms, it would only be worse for them if she couldn’t get out-

Suddenly the building juddered and heaved, a wrecking ball crashing through the far wall. Rubble and debris scattered, dust thrown into the air, and Nattie screamed.

“W-w-what was th-that!?” she yelped, running over and clinging to Hatchet.

“We have to _GO!”_ Hatchet said, pulling her over to the hole in the wall. “Quick!”

Nattie still held onto her as she concentrated, her brow furrowing even as tears began to spill down her cheeks. “I- I- I can’t!” Nattie looked up at Hatchet, terrified. “I can’t do it!”

The building shuddered again as the wrecking ball crashed through another section of the wall, throwing chunks of concrete and brickwork everywhere. Hatchet quickly pulled Nattie behind her, shielding her from the danger.

_Of course she can’t. Of course._ Hatchet panicked, staring up at the heavy equipment falling back and preparing for another swing. _We have to get out of here before everything falls down on us._ Hatchet’s mind raced, her pulses thumping wildly as she tried to think. They needed to get out. They couldn’t go through the hole. Not unless it was bigger, big enough to not need to change form. _There’s a hole plenty big enough for that just over there._ Hatchet mentally chided herself for the sarcastic quip - only to be struck by an idea. It was dangerous, but it was better than nothing.

“Alright, up you get,” Hatchet said, picking Nattie up. Nattie clung to her as she stared up at the wrecking ball, sluggishly approaching the opposite end of its swing. _Now’s the time._ Holding tightly to Nattie, Hatchet sprinted across the warehouse, getting as close as she could to the hole without stumbling on the rubble.

“W-what are you _doing?_ ” Nattie screamed, turning and hiding her face against Hatchet’s shoulder, trembling in fear.

The wrecking ball was turning on its path, beginning to swing back towards the warehouse. Hatchet kept a tight hold of Nattie as she shifted forms briefly and launched herself as hard as she could, superjumping out of the warehouse through the hole it had made. She saw the enormous sphere of steel coming towards them as they rose into the air and prayed she’d angled her trajectory right, holding her breath - then letting it out in relief as she passed it, slightly to one side of it as she began to fall. Looking down beneath her, she hadn’t been able to see where she’d land, and she could see construction workers staring at her. A few of them moved out of the way as she reached the ground, and she heard someone shouting.

“What in the _living blazes_ d’ya think you’re doing, pulling a stunt like that!?”

Taking a moment to catch her breath and double check that yes, they had made it out, they were unharmed, and Nattie was still here in her arms, Hatchet let out a heavy sigh of relief before turning to the voice. A suited moray in a hardhat was stomping towards her, a clipboard in hand and a vicious look on his face.

“What in the _ever-loving fuck_ do _you_ think you’re doing!?” she retorted, anger bubbling up in her. “Did you even _fucking check_ inside? This kid was in there! If I hadn’t arrived in time she would _still_ have been in there!”

“It’s no fault of the company if you dumbasses don’t know where to stay out of! We checked the place out a couple days ago and told the hobo to clear out!” the moray said, wagging a finger at her.

“You think that’s fucking good enough!?” Hatchet snarled. If Nattie wasn’t clinging to her so tightly, she’d have had half a mind to put her down so she could punch this bastard properly. “You think that justifies murdering a child!?”

“Well- That’s- That’s not, it’s not-” He was clearly flustered, struggling to come up with a response to that. Hatchet let out a furious growl, cutting him off.

“You consider yourself _damn fucking lucky_ that I showed up in time! Go rot in a ditch, you heartless sack of garbage!” Fuming, Hatchet turned and stalked away, holding Nattie tightly. Stepping over the tape as she crossed the threshold and left the remains of the warehouse behind her, she took in deep breaths, trying to calm down as she walked. Nattie was still clutching her as if her life depended on it, crying loudly. _Fair, given it did, just a moment ago._ Hatchet shifted her hold and brought one hand up to gently stroke her hair.

“Hey, we’re safe now. It’s okay.”

Nattie didn’t stop, didn’t quiet, still wailing. Hatchet tried to suppress the sigh, letting the kid get it out of her system. She walked a little ways until they got to a bench, and Hatchet sat down. Letting Nattie cling to her, Hatchet kept up idly stroking her hair, hoping it might be soothing. Eventually Nattie grew quieter, her loud crying dissolving into smaller sobs and then down to only sniffling hiccups.

“I- That- was sca-a-ary,” she stuttered, still hiding her face against Hatchet’s shirt.

“...Yeah, I know,” Hatchet said. “It’s over now, though, and we’re fine, aren’t we?”

Nattie sniffed, and Hatchet felt her nod slightly against her shoulder. “...Mm-hmm…”

Hatchet waited a while longer for Nattie to calm down completely, and eventually Nattie finally let go slightly.

“You alright now?” Hatchet asked.

“...Yeah.” Nattie paused, then looked up at Hatchet with an expression she wasn’t quite sure of. “You saved me.”

Meeting Nattie’s gaze, those last few words were abruptly lost on Hatchet. She looked down at her properly for the first time that day, the nightmare from that morning bursting into her mind. Suddenly dumbfounded, Hatchet stared at her face. The face she didn’t quite recognise but knew meant something in the dream, the face she hadn’t quite remembered when she woke up.

_I know who you are._

An old, shamed panic rose in Hatchet as her heart rates suddenly increased, a sudden feeling of sickness rising in her. _I know who you are._ Her mouth ran dry and she felt a chill clutch her insides. She hastily looked away, standing from the bench.

“...Let’s go find the others.”

She looked away from Nattie as she began walking. Nattie followed her, holding onto her sleeve.

“Are you still a bit scared too? You’re shivering,” Nattie said.

Hatchet nodded mutely. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t anything to do with their near-death experience. _I know who you are._

“It’s okay now though,” Nattie told her, repeating the words she’d said.

“...Yeah,” Hatchet lied. She was anything but okay. _This_ was anything but okay.

Nattie seemed to realise Hatchet didn’t want to talk, or maybe she was unnerved by Hatchet’s limited responses and clear disconcerted mood, but she was quiet as they walked to the city centre. Hatchet quickly guided her over to the studio window and knocked on it. Barely paying attention to what was happening around her, she went around the sides as Marina and Pearl met them to open the door.

“You found her! Thank you,” Marina said, relieved, but her expression changed immediately once she looked to Hatchet. “Hatchet?”

Hatchet tugged her wrist free of Nattie’s hold, swallowing slightly. “Can’t stick around.” Without another word, she backed away, hastily leaving the square. As soon as she wasn’t in a busy area, she started running. She felt so sick, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, just in case anything did come up. Tears had risen in her eyes once again and she was shaking horribly. Not stopping until she was back at the dump, back on her beanbag and curled up beneath the blanket, she couldn’t hide from it anymore. She knew now, and there was no going back.

**_I know who you are._ **


	12. Exchanging Favours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for panic attack at the start

Hatchet remained curled up on the beanbag for a long time, shaking. She couldn’t move, her chest ached, and it felt hard to breathe. Hyperventilating and quivering, she lay there, paralyzed as a harsh pain gripped her. At some point she heard her phone going off in her pocket but she couldn’t bring herself to look at it, couldn’t do anything. She wasn’t sure just how long she lay there but it felt too long with nothing changing, stretching out into an endless infinity of struggling. Alone and afraid, she clutched the blanket around her, fists clenched tightly.

After an apparent eon of hurting, the ache slowly began to subside, the tightness in her throat and chest gradually loosening. Once she felt like she could breathe again, she tried to control it, drawing in deep steadying breaths to try and compose herself. The shivering eventually receded, leaving her still. As she slowly returned to a slightly calmer state, the pain in her quieted, leaving instead the usual nausea in its place. Beneath it she felt ravenous and exhausted but she couldn’t eat with the nausea as strong as it was, wouldn’t sleep and invite the nightmares after that ordeal. She shakily took out her water bottle, hoping a drink at least might help. Finally in a somewhat better condition, she took out her phone to check the screen. It displayed a missed call from Marina, and a text from her.

_> Hope you’re alright. I have those interview clothes here, you left before I could go get them for you. _

A new spike of fear tore through her. The interview. How was she supposed to do that competently in this messy state? Mouth dry, she swallowed nervously, feeling herself teetering back to her previous position. She drew in another deep breath, trying to stop it. _This isn’t a bad thing,_ she reminded herself. _It’s a chance at finally getting something better._

_But what if I fuck it up?_

_I can’t. I can’t fuck this one up. I have to get it right._ She took another drink of water, sighing heavily and trying to breathe out the nerves with it. _And to get it right, I have to do it._

So she’d have to go to the studio again at some point to get that change of clothes. But… That could wait for now. It was only around midday, after all. The studio would be open all day. If she went later instead, then… maybe they’d have taken the kid somewhere else. Just thinking of her brought the nausea to a sickly high, and Hatchet shuddered. She needed to find something else to do in the meantime. If she was going to possibly see her again, she couldn’t do it like this. She needed to try and get herself together, properly. Maybe she’d manage that way.

Thinking back to that morning, she tried to remember what she’d been doing. She’d gone and showered, then was on her way to the market when she got the first call from Marina. Right. She was low on fruit.

Slowly dragging herself up off the beanbag, she left her little camp, standing. She felt weak, tired, her initial steps when she started walking slightly wobbly. She kept going regardless, and her legs seemed to remember how they worked properly as she went, steadying slightly by the time she’d left the dump. She made her way to the market, finding Phoebe’s fruit stand to grab some things. The place wasn’t too busy today, quiet and lacking in any other people around the stall as Hatchet arrived. Phoebe glanced up at her approach, sat back against the table behind her with a book in hand.

“’Atchet,” she greeted. “’Ow’s it goin’?”

Hatchet attempted a grunted response but the sound caught in her throat, her voice apparently not quite ready to show itself again. She didn’t make eye contact, looking down at the fruit as she picked through things to stuff in her pockets.

“…You aight?” Phoebe asked.

 _Ugh. Stop noticing things._ Phoebe didn’t seem to miss much. Even if Hatchet lied, she’d probably just see through it, so instead she remained silent.

“If ya want some company or somethin’ and ain’t busy, feel free to stick around. Not like, ‘elpin’ out, Mondays are always slow. But if ya just wanna be ‘ere, even if yer not talkin’ or anythin’, ain’t no skin off my teeth,” Phoebe offered, then glanced aside slightly. “An’ uh… sorry about before. Shoulda guessed somethin’ like that might not go well.”

Hatchet turned her gaze up, looking at her. She'd forgotten about her lapse in behaviour the last time they saw each other, too wrapped up in everything else going on. Letting out a quiet breath, she slowly made her way around to Phoebe’s side of the stand, perching on the far corner of the table. “…Don’t worry about it,” she muttered. _It’s not like I’m doing anything… I might as well burn some time here._

“Well, uh… If there’s anythin’ I can do to, I dunno, make it up ta ya or somethin’, let me know,” Phoebe said uncertainly.

Hatchet snorted. “You don’t owe me anything.” _It’s not your fault that I’m a fucking mess._

“If ya say so,” Phoebe said, sounding unconvinced. “Well, either way, I’m glad yer not pissed at me or anythin’.”

“Why would you care about that?” Hatchet asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

Phoebe huffed slightly, a lopsided smile showing on her features. “Gee, is it that ‘ard for ya ta think I might actually care what ya think?”

“Again, why would you?” Hatchet repeated, dubious.

Phoebe chuckled. “It’s almost like I like ya as a person or somethin’,” she said. “Yer such a grouch.”

That… definitely wasn’t true. Or if it was, it was only because Phoebe barely knew her, had never seen her get angry, never heard her tossing insults at whoever annoyed her too much.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but I’m basically pissed at everyone, so,” Hatchet grumbled.

“ _Such_ a grouch,” Phoebe repeated, grinning. “A real Scrooge. Betcha ‘ate Squidmas an’ everythin’.”

“There’s not exactly anything for me to like about it,” Hatchet muttered.

“So ya do! Go on, say _bah, ‘umbug_ ,” Phoebe said, clearly delighted.

“Oh, fuck off,” Hatchet growled. “You’d hate it if you were homeless and family-less too.” As soon as she finished the sentence, her eyebrows twitched slightly as she realised _oh, I actually said that out loud._

Phoebe’s smile soon dropped, and she looked away. “…Guess I would. …Sorry.”

A dissatisfied snarl twitched around Hatchet’s lips, but she didn’t let it out, wouldn’t voice it. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Sorry,” Phoebe repeated. “I ain’t tryin’a look down on ya or anythin’… I just… That was insensitive o’ me.”

Hatchet huffed, not responding. Silence fell between them, and Phoebe looked away awkwardly for a while. Eventually a customer appeared and broke the tension for a moment, even if just while Phoebe handled the sale. Hatchet could feel the foul expression on her face and tried to get rid of it before Phoebe turned around and saw. She sighed, trying to regain a more neutral bearing. Phoebe sat down on the table next to her again, quiet for a while before speaking up once more.

“If ya don’ mind me askin’… ‘Ow long’s’at been the case? …’Avin’… No-one and no ‘ome, I mean.”

If it were anyone else asking, Hatchet was sure her answer would be that it was none of their business. “…Never had a family in the first place. Been about five years since… five years on the streets.”

“Jeez…” Phoebe trailed off for a moment. “Yer a real tough nut. Pretty sure most ‘omeless people don’t last that long.”

Hatchet snorted. “Wow, thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” She huffed derisively. “Guess I’m just like any other pest. I don’t die easy.”

“’O says yer a pest?”

“No-one says it in words but it’s pretty obvious,” Hatchet muttered bitterly. “Anyone can tell with half a glance that I’m a hobo. You said it yourself when you first talked to me about this. People aren’t exactly inviting when they know that. If I ever tried to hole up somewhere in public eye it wouldn’t be long before getting told to clear off. People don’t want to acknowledge street rats like me, so I’m a nuisance, because they’d much rather pretend I didn’t exist.”

“That don’t make ya a pest,” Phoebe said. “An’ it ain’t right of anyone ta treat ya that way.”

“Yeah well, people still do. You can dream up whatever ideal world where people treat each other decently you want, doesn’t change real life.”

“That don’t change that it’s still wrong and ya don’t deserve that, though.”

Hatchet looked down at the floor, having nothing to say to that. She wasn’t sure what she thought of what she deserved or not. It wasn’t as if she was a good person, she knew that much - but as far as she was concerned, neither was anyone else. Sure, she treated the majority of people around her terribly, but that was just the same as how they treated her. If anyone wanted her to treat them well they’d have to prove they deserved it. Until then, she’d give everyone the same amount of respect they gave her – _none._

“Different note, ya got that interview tomorrow, right?” Phoebe asked, snapping Hatchet out of her thoughts. “If that goes well ya might get yerself on yer feet anyway, right?” 

Another spike of nerves ran through her as she was reminded of the interview. “…Yeah, _if_ it goes well.”

“Ya got an interview outfit or anythin’?”

“…Someone’s lending me stuff to wear. I should probably go pick that up at some point…” Hatchet trailed off, not looking forward to the prospect of going to the studio and possibly having to see the kid again, and suppressed the shiver trying to run through her.

“Good ta ‘ear,” Phoebe said, then paused thoughtfully. “’Ey, so, I wanna ‘elp ya if I can on this, so… D’ya wanna crash at mine tonight? Ain’t got a spare bed but I’d guess ya still can get a better sleep than usual on a sofa, an’ ya’d be able ta ‘ave a proper shower an’ whatnot.”

Hatchet stared at her in disbelief. “Why would you offer that? What are you trying to get out of me?”

“I ain’t tryin’a get anythin’,” Phoebe said earnestly. “Or if I am, I’m tryin’a ‘elp someone ta get what they deserve. Is’at so ‘ard ta believe? ‘S jus’ one night, ‘s not like that’s gonna put me out or anythin’. No skin off my teeth. If yer gonna feel like ya owe me or whatever then ya can decide yerself what ya wanna do about that, but I ain’t gonna come tryin’a cash in on a favour. If I were tryin’a get ya indebted ta me I’d offer it permanently, but fer one thing, I’m _not_ , fer another, I may not know ya too well but I can already see there’s no way in ‘ell ya’d ever agree, an’ for a third, it’d get annoyin’ ‘avin’ anyone around that long.”

Once again, Hatchet found herself unable to find any holes to poke in Phoebe’s argument. She was forthright enough to even say it’d be a nuisance to have her for longer, so it wasn’t as if she was trying to sugarcoat things. The suspicion lingered, and Hatchet couldn’t come to a decision.

“Jus’ tryin’a give ya a better shot at the interview. No-one deserves what yer goin’ through. If I can ‘elp anyone get on their feet, that’s reward enough fer me,” Phoebe reiterated.

Hatchet tapped her fingers on the table, eventually sighing. “…Fine, okay. I… yeah. …Thanks.”

Phoebe gave her another crooked smile. “Good on ya. If ya wander off later, jus’ come back ‘ere fer around ‘alf five.”

“Gonna have to go get those clothes anyway,” Hatchet muttered. “Guess I might as well go do that…”

“Go on, get on that. I’ll see ya later, yeah?”

“…Yeah.” Hatchet got up from her perch on the table and walked around to leave, glancing back at Phoebe as she went. Phoebe waved, still smiling. Hatchet nodded briefly to her, leaving the market.

Making her way to the city centre, her stomach churned, still anxious about going to the studio. Her phone went off again in her pocket, not helping matters as her hearts near enough jumped into her throat at the sudden noise. _I should really set it to silent or something…_ Pulling it out, she saw Marina was calling her again. Somewhat hesitant, she didn’t quite want to answer. She let it ring for a little while before steeling her nerves and answering.

“…Hey. Saw your text, I’m coming over now,” she said briefly.

“Oh. Oh, good,” Marina replied. “Um, Nattie told us about what happened. Are you alright?”

Knots twisted themselves in her stomach as that name came up. “…I’m fine. Is she still with you?”

“Yeah, she’s still here. I think she wants to see you again, she-”

Hatchet cut her off before she could continue. “ _No_. I don’t want to see her. Keep her away from me.”

“What? Why? She’s really fond of you, she-”

“I said _keep her away from me_ ,” Hatchet growled, but it was weak, lacking an edge. “Just… do it.”

“Hatchet, I know you’re not what anyone would call a people-person, but she needs people she can rely on. She’s just a kid. And you just _saved her life,_ so she’s already pretty attached. You can at least just say hi to her every now and then,” Marina said.

“She doesn’t need me. She…” _She deserves better than me._ Hatchet drew in a breath, letting out a shaky sigh and hating how fragile it sounded. “Just… Don’t tell her I’m coming. Don’t make me see her. …Please.”

Hatchet didn’t hear anything from the other end for a while, then a quiet exhale.

“…Alright.”

Hatchet released the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. “…Thanks,” she muttered quietly.

“You said you’re on your way? I’ll see you in a moment then,” Marina said. “I’ve got the clothes here ready.”

“…Yeah. See you then.”

Hatchet pulled the phone away, hanging up. As soon as the call was over she felt a heavy shame rush over her, tears pricking at her eyes. She blinked them away and pushed it down. _Not now. Just… Give me until tomorrow afternoon. Just let me get through the interview._ Trying to collect herself as she walked, it wasn’t long until she arrived in the square. She tried to look through the studio window without being seen in case Nattie was there, but the only ones visible through it were Pearl and Marina as usual. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she moved over to it and waited for them to spot her. Pearl did first, with a scowl. She stayed sat as Marina moved to stand and left the room, and Hatchet went around to the side door to meet her.

“Hi,” Marina said as she opened the door, a bag in hand. “Here you go. This should make a good interview outfit.”

“Thanks,” Hatchet muttered, taking it.

Marina gazed at her quietly for a moment. “…It’s not just about not liking kids or anything, is it?”

 _I’m not talking about this. Not now, not to you._ Hatchet didn’t answer the question, turning to leave. “I’ll get these back to you later.”

“Alright. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”

Hatchet gave a brief nod, hurrying away.

* * *

Hatchet decided to spend the rest of the day with Phoebe. She wasn’t willing to go back to the dump now that she had the interview clothes from Marina, it wouldn’t help her chances if they ended up stinking from being in a rubbish tip. There wasn’t much of the afternoon left, but occasionally there were enough customers to warrant her helping however briefly on the stand, and once it hit five pm she helped Phoebe pack up.

“I gotta admit, after ya left earlier, I was a li’l worried ya might not actually show up again,” Phoebe said as they left the market.

“I’d be lying if I said the temptation wasn’t there,” Hatchet replied. The suspicion was still there, lurking, but she tried to ignore at as best she could. This was all for the interview.

Phoebe let out a brief laugh. “I’ll bet. Thanks fer trustin’ me anyway. Seems like ya don’t do that easy, so I’m gonna go right ahead an’ take it as quite the accolade.”

 _I’m not sure I **do** trust you… Not completely. …Maybe a little, though. _“…Damn right,” Hatchet muttered.

Phoebe snorted amusedly at that. “Fer such a grump, yer a righ’ laugh, ya know that?”

Hatchet didn’t reply, and they walked in silence. Phoebe led her to a block of apartments further outside the city and lead her inside.

“Aight, ‘ere we are,” she said as she unlocked her flat, opening up to an open floor studio flat. A wide window looked out across the cityscape, and next to it was a sofa opposite a tv set. Stretching across one wall was a kitchen counter, while on the opposite wall was a double bed, chest of drawers and wardrobe. One corner near the door was taken up by another room, presumably a bathroom. It looked cosy enough for one person, but like it might be a little too small for any more than that to be comfortable. “Welcome ta my ‘umble abode.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen humbler,” Hatchet said quietly, a hint of a smirk showing on her face.

Phoebe quickly looked back to her, uncertain that she may have said something wrong again, but relaxed once she spotted the trace of a better mood. “Yer a real jokester today, aren’tcha?” She dumped her backpack next to the sofa, sitting down on it. “Well, go a’ead an’ make yerself at ‘ome,” she said as she switched on the TV.

Not quite sure what to do, Hatchet eventually crossed the room to sit on the other end of the sofa, dropping the bag of clothes from Marina next to it as Phoebe flicked through the channels.

“What kinda thing d’ya like watchin’?” Phoebe asked.

 _Uh._ Hatchet paused, not sure how to respond. “…No idea.”

“Been that long since ya watched TV? C’mon, ya gotta at least remember what yer tastes are.”

 _More the case that I’ve never watched any in the first place._ Uncomfortable, she didn’t feel like disclosing that fact, didn’t want to bring up anything that might point to her abnormal upbringing. “Just put on whatever.”

Phoebe shrugged, picking some sitcom about a group of students trying to put together a turf war team. Hatchet watched absent mindedly, only half paying attention. She was waiting for Phoebe to inevitably have a word with her about theft again, or ‘lay down the ground rules’, as she’d put it before. Phoebe didn’t say anything on the matter though, only giving occasional comments on the characters’ hijinks as they watched. When she did speak up about something other than the show, it still wasn’t what she was anticipating.

“So are ya gonna insist on doin’ somethin’ so ya don’t reckon ya owe me or anythin’?”

Hatchet glanced over at her. “…I don’t really _like_ feeling I owe anyone, so…”

“Then I got a suggestion. Can ya cook?”

Hatchet furrowed her brow in confusion. “Yeah. Not as well as Mason, and it’s been a while, but I can.”

“Don’t think I know _anyone_ ‘o cooks as well as Mason,” she replied with a chuckle. “Aight, you do dinner then. I can’t be bothered tonight. There’s plenty ‘f ingredients an’ stuff in the cupboards.”

_Just… cooking dinner?_ “Is that it?”

“Sure is. Like I said, I don’t really reckon ya owe me anyway. But if ya wanna do somethin’ regardless, let me be lazy now I’m at ‘ome.”

Hatchet blinked in surprise. “…Sure.” Getting up from the sofa, she went over to the kitchen area, opening up the cupboards.

“Pans an’ whatnot are all in the bottom cupboards, food stuff in the top ones,” Phoebe called over from the sofa.

Hatchet looked through the contents of the cupboards and the fridge. It looked like there was everything she’d need to make a bolognese, so she settled on that. It really had been a long time since she had last cooked, not since she was back at the test centre, but she remembered the general gist of it. Rooting through the cupboards for a chopping board and finding a knife, she started cutting the vegetables she’d set aside, frying up the onion first. The smell of the cooking soon filled the flat, and she felt it draw out her hunger. A proper place to stay for the night, and a proper meal to boot, with all she had to do being cook it? It didn’t quite feel right to her still, suspicion still lurking.

It abruptly occurred to her that if she managed to get a job and a place of her own, that’d be the case every night, with the only exception being paying rent. Would she still feel like it wasn’t right? She slowed to a pause in her chopping, the knife resting on the board as she considered that, considered that maybe she still wouldn’t feel comfortable with that, considered _why_ she wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.

 _Do I deserve that?_ She wasn’t sure that she did. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes as a sharp feeling of shame washed through her once more. Phoebe seemed to think she might, but Phoebe hardly knew her. _Do I deserve anything like this? Me, who did what I did?_

_I did what I had to._

_I still did it, though._

_But if I hadn’t it wouldn’t be any better. There’s no way I could have taken care of her. Not when I just barely got by on my own. And I couldn’t have stayed._

The tears began to spill down her cheeks as an awful misery rose in her. There hadn’t been any other option. There hadn’t. She had to believe that, and she knew that no alternative could have led to a better outcome, but it didn’t change what it was. She felt a lump rise in her throat, and she sniffed slightly. Trying hard to push down the bubbling emotions, she hoped Phoebe wouldn’t have heard over the noise of the TV, wiping away the tears and drying her eyes on her sleeve. She started chopping again, focusing hard on what she was doing to try and keep her mind occupied, distract her from her thoughts. Once the bolognese was simmering and the pasta boiling, she went to the bathroom to wash her face, checking in the mirror above the sink that it wasn’t obvious she’d been crying before going back out.

_All this just has to wait. Just a little longer. Just until this time tomorrow._

Once the bolognese was ready she found cutlery and a couple of plates, dishing up and soon moving back to the sofa with both, handing one to Phoebe.

“Smells great. Thanks,” Phoebe said appreciatively, sitting up slightly before taking the plate. “Ya don’t care about not ‘avin’ a proper table to sit at, right?”

“Haven’t had one in years, so no,” Hatchet replied, taking a seat where she’d been before.

“Thought as much,” Phoebe said, soon digging into the bolognese. “Mmm. Yer not bad, this is great.”

Hatchet didn’t respond right away, busy with a mouthful of her own. It was once more wonderful to have a hot meal to eat, a proper dinner instead of just shoddy snacks. “…Thanks for providing actual food.”

“Yer not gonna take that as another separate favour or anythin’, are ya?” Phoebe said, regarding her with a certain suspicion.

Hatchet rolled her eyes. “Fine, I won’t.”

“Good,” Phoebe said, smiling. “So what’s the deal wi’ that raggy cape thing yer always wearin’?”

“The deal is, fuck off, I do what I want,” Hatchet replied, though her tone wasn’t particularly aggressive as she absent-mindedly watched the TV.

“Aight, fair enough,” Phoebe said, chuckling slightly.

The evening wore on with the two of them going through various shows Phoebe enjoyed, idly chitchatting here and there. Hatchet had never expected to find herself so willing to talk to someone, but she found herself more relaxed around Phoebe. It was undeniable that she’d managed to win at least a little of Hatchet’s trust. That was an unusual feeling for Hatchet, not one she was used to. Even so, it was good to be able to wind down a little, especially after her earlier worries. Eventually it got late enough for the pair of them to be yawning.

“I’m thinkin’ about bed. You good on the sofa?” Phoebe asked.

“Sure,” Hatchet agreed tiredly.

“I’ll grab a blanket for ya. Ain’t got a spare duvet or anythin’ but it’s still warm out so it’s probably fine, right?”

“It’s still going to be more than what I’m used to, so,” Hatchet replied.

“Ya got any pyjamas or anythin’?”

Hatchet paused, thinking. She’d never gone back to the dump, so all her stuff was still there – including her night clothes. “…No. Didn’t think about that.”

“Ya can borrow some,” Phoebe replied, crossing to the chest of drawers and pulling some out. “’Ere ya go.”

Taking the pyjamas, the fabric felt softer and warmer than that of her own. “Thanks.” Pulling her boots off and leaving them by the sofa, she went to the bathroom to change. Folding her clothes up, she glanced around the bathroom’s contents. She didn’t have a toothbrush with her, but Phoebe had mouthwash, so she made do with that instead, glancing at the other things around the sink. Two things caught her eye, if only for the prescription label plastered across the containers. Curious, she looked down at them. One contained estradiol tablets, and the other was apparently spironolactone. Whatever those were. She shrugged, done changing.

Going back to the sofa, Phoebe had left a blanket on it, folded on one side. Phoebe passed her to use the bathroom herself and Hatchet rearranged the cushions on the sofa so she’d be able to lie down on it easily. This would be the first time in years that she slept on something soft that she could actually lie down properly on. The only way she fit herself on the beanbag was by curling up, but this was pretty close to an actual bed. She lay down and pulled the blanket over herself, using some of the cushions as pillows and getting comfy. She heard Phoebe come back out of the bathroom and sat up. Phoebe went to the kitchen area, getting herself a glass of water.

“You comfy enough on there?” she asked.

“Yeah. More than,” Hatchet replied. “What’s with the prescription stuff, you ill or something?”

Phoebe paused, blinking a few times. “…Wondered if ya’d spotted that. Ya really not know what estradiol is?”

Hatchet rolled her eyes. “Sounds like nerd stuff, I never studied sciences much.”

“Jeez. Uh…” Phoebe trailed off briefly, then took in a deep breath. “’S hormones. I’m trans.”

“…Oh.” Hatchet may not be familiar with chemical names or hormones or whatever, but she’d heard enough to know what being trans was – and how many people were insufferable about it. “Uh… okay. That’s whatever, I’m not- I’m not gonna be a prick about it,” she said awkwardly.

“Thanks,” Phoebe said, giving her a nervous smile.

“So… Is Phoebe and she her the stuff you actually _want_ to use, or…”

“Yeah, that’s my name an’ pronouns,” Phoebe said warily.

“Okay, good,” Hatchet said quickly. “I don’t care about the old stuff, just want to, uh. Be sure I’m using the right stuff.”

Phoebe visibly relaxed, smiling again. “Thanks, ‘Atchet. ‘S always nice ta gain a friend ‘o’se actually decent about this stuff.”

“I’ve heard enough about it to know there are plenty of pricks out there about it, you don’t need me on that list as well,” Hatchet replied. “So… yeah.”

Phoebe chuckled slightly. “Well thanks nonetheless. ‘S still somethin’ I appreciate. A lot.” She set down the glass of water she’d gotten on her bedside table and turned the room’s light off. “G’night, then.”

“’Night,” Hatchet replied. Shuffling under the blanket, she went back to the comfiest position she’d found. This was earlier than she usually went to sleep, but she was exhausted after all her emotional ups and downs after the morning’s realisation. Her thoughts drifted slowly as she waited to fall asleep. _So Phoebe’s trans. That’s something, I guess. Or not. It’s… whatever. It’s not a problem or anything, it’s just something about her. Am I supposed to be more deliberately letting her know I’m not bothered by that or should I just not make a big deal about it?_

Largely unexposed to any details of anything to do with being trans, Hatchet was uncertain what she should do. _I guess I’ll just ask her. She’s still the same Phoebe I’ve known this whole time._ Resolving to do that in the morning, her mind lingered on the thought that above all, she just wanted to be decent about it. They may not have met under the prettiest of circumstances, but Phoebe was better than most people. She had helped Hatchet, maybe more than she realised. Hatchet might even go so far as to say Phoebe was _kind_ to her. The least she could do was return that. So, even if this was something she didn’t really get, she could at least make an effort to try to understand and be respectful. Distracted by those thoughts as she meandered away from consciousness, it was the first in a long time that she fell asleep without her mind on the fear of nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which hatchet sure is trying but really does not have a clue what shes doing.


	13. The calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a brief mention of self harm scars

Hatchet awoke early, early enough that it was still dark out - and for once in a place that didn’t stink. Turning over, she realised what she lay on was not her usual beanbag and opened her eyes, peering through the dark and remembering where she was.

Phoebe’s flat.

It was silent around her, a small amount of light from street lamps outside trying to peek its way in past the curtains. Groping around the floor next to the sofa where she’d left her folded clothes, she found her jeans and pulled her phone out of her pocket, squinting at the glare of the cracked screen as it lit up. 3 am. With how early they’d gone to bed, she’d already gotten what was (for her) a normal amount of sleep. That was probably why she’d woken up. That said, she should probably try and get in as much rest as she could. It wasn’t as if she could do much else being awake right now, and if she could get in enough sleep to not look such a haggard mess, try and reduce the near-permanent bags under her eyes, it would help her chances.

A spike of nerves ran through her at the thought of the interview. She had to get this right, she _had_ to. The pressure to do so was heavy, weighing down on her, but she refused to be buried by it, instead thinking to if she succeeded. This time now was one of the rarest things in her life – a moment where she had something to _hope_ for.

Fidgeting into another position, she tried to go back to sleep. By some miracle her rest so far had been undisturbed, not plagued by the usual nightmares. Maybe it was due to her mind having been so preoccupied as she fell asleep. Maybe it was because she was in different surroundings, actually getting to have somewhere fairly reasonable to sleep for once. Either way, it was nice to wake up without immediately feeling panicked, even if she was still nervous about the interview.

Rolling over again, she couldn’t get back to sleep. Worry kept her awake, and her mind kept running through how it could go, everything that could go wrong, what would she do if she didn’t get the job, what would she do even if she _did,_ it wasn’t as if she knew a thing about studio work or dealing with people in any amicable way and cod what was she _doing-_

She groaned quietly, curling up beneath the blanket and clutching at her head. This was _not_ the time to spiral. None of that, not right now. All of this, everything negative, it could all just hold its seahorses until later. Right now was time to rest.

Hatchet didn’t truly get back to sleep at any point, but eventually drifted into a light doze, stirring every so often as the growing light of the day fought to brighten the room despite the curtains. Somewhere along the lines her long-term exhaustion had caught up with her, and even when she heard Phoebe begin to move she didn’t want to get up, staying beneath the blanket. Waiting a while to show that she was awake, she finally shifted up and poked her head out when she heard Phoebe in the kitchen area, boiling a kettle. Phoebe heard the rustling from the sofa and looked over to her.

“Mornin’,” she said sleepily, stifling a yawn. “Makin’ coffee, want some?”

Hatchet squinted slightly. Hmm. It would wake her up for now, but it might crash on her later. Better to save caffeine for the afternoon, if having any at all. She shook her head, dropping back down onto the sofa. Phoebe continued pottering around for a while, and eventually Hatchet dragged herself up off the sofa, standing and walking blearily over to get a glass of water. Phoebe was sat on a stool near the kitchen side, a bowl of muesli and mug of coffee in front of her.

“’Ey, so, if lots ‘f people are grouchy in the morning, but yer always a grouch anyway, does it flip an’ make ya not so bad in the mornin’, or just extra grumpy?”

Hatchet’s brow knitted in annoyance and she blinked a slow, deliberate blink at Phoebe, silently expressing that she was thoroughly unimpressed as she drank the water. Phoebe just laughed slightly.

“’S the latter, then. ‘Elp yerself ta breakfast, ‘s all in that cupboard.”

Hatchet opened up the one indicated, finding bread, a handful of spreads, and two cereal options, one of which was the muesli. Not feeling up for anything that required more than the minimum amount of effort, she grabbed the muesli – if only for it being the slightly closer of the cereals – and poured some out into a bowl, getting milk out of the fridge. There was another stool next to where Phoebe was, so she took a seat on it. She remembered which drawer contained the cutlery from rooting through them last night and got herself a spoon. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected of muesli but it was about as bland as what she usually ate, aside from the occasional bursts of flavour from the dried fruit added to it.

“Why do people willingly eat this?” She muttered.

Phoebe snickered slightly. “It sure ain’t much taste wise, but it’s ‘ealthy.”

They ate quietly, Phoebe casually flicking through internet sites on her phone as they sat there. Hatchet appreciated that she didn’t feel a need to fill the silence, not bothering to speak up and force some conversation about nothing - though that reminded her of what she’d never spoken up about yesterday, how she’d never bothered to say anything about habitually sticky fingers.

“Why do you trust me?” Hatchet asked dubiously.

“Whaddya mean?” Phoebe replied, looking up from her phone and over to Hatchet.

“You know I’m a thief. Why let me into your home?”

Phoebe shrugged. “’Cause I also know yer not an idiot. Ya know we got a good deal goin’ that’s ‘elpful to ya, right? Ya ‘aven’t tried nickin’ anythin’ more notable off the stand while ya ‘elp. Far as I can see, yer jus’ tryin’a get by, an’ yer smart enough ta know that keepin’ it sweet wi’ me so ya can keep yer free fruit is the best plan.”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes. “If that’s really all there is to it, then you’re too trusting.”

Phoebe let out a slight huff, smiling. “’M sure ya would think that. Well, maybe I am a li’l biased after ya ‘elped me out that other time after the announcement. Ya didn’t ‘ave to, but ya did. I reckon ya might be nicer than ya let on. I mean, there was that time ya ‘elped out that lost kid, too, so.”

A shudder threatened to tear through her at the mention of _her,_ but Hatchet managed to suppress it even as she felt a wave of nausea rise. “…You’d have to be completely heartless not to help a lost kid. Being at least one step above that doesn’t make me _nice_.”

 _Completely heartless._ That reminded her of their other plans to deal with the AI’s next site in a couple of days. She’d have to make sure she was ready for that. There was something else it reminded her of, too…

“Well, I reckon yer pretty decent,” Phoebe said.

 _Only because you don’t know me. Not really._ Hatchet looked down at her breakfast, her sudden nausea dulling her desire to eat it as she pushed it around the bowl with the spoon. “You don’t know what I’ve done,” she muttered quietly.

“…What, ya gonna tell me ya’ve killed a guy or somethin’?” Phoebe asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Hatchet stared down at the bowl, leaning against the counter and propping her head up on her arm, resting her cheek against her palm. _Why am I even talking to her about this?_ She wasn’t really sure, but something drew her to continue nonetheless. “…How does it measure up in terms of decency when you get left in a situation where none of the options are good ones?”

Phoebe paused, thoughtfully chewing her breakfast for a moment before she spoke up. “I reckon that probably depends on the situation.”

Hatchet said nothing, drinking from her water. She wasn’t ready to talk about it in any level of detail, couldn’t admit to what she’d done.

Phoebe was quiet for a while, but seemed to realise Hatchet wasn’t going to speak any further. “Well… Even without knowin’ the deal, if there weren’t any good options, I don’t reckon anyone could blame ya for it. But even past that, ya can’t spend yer life beatin’ yerself up over old stuff. We’ve all done stuff we ain’t proud of, but ya still gotta move forward. Best ya can do is try an’ be a better person today than ya were yesterday. ‘S long as yer actually tryin’ to do that, then that makes ya a good sort in my books, I reckon.”

 _Easy for you to say…_ Hatchet drew in, then let out a deep sigh. Trying to force her thoughts elsewhere, she slowly resumed eating. Phoebe seemed content to leave the conversation there, or perhaps just wasn’t sure what else to say, but either way remained silent. She finished her breakfast first, stepping aside to put her bowl and mug by the sink before leaving Hatchet in the kitchen area to go and shower. Hatchet slowly finished eating and washed up the things by the sink, then went back to the sofa and folded the blanket, putting the cushions back in their original positions. Phoebe came back out of the bathroom a while later, a towel in hand.

“’Ere ya go, if ya wanna shower,” she said.

Hatchet nodded, taking it and going to wash. Closing the door to the little bathroom behind her, it took a brief moment to figure out which way to turn the shower knobs. Once the water had warmed up, she appreciated the feel of it. It was much better than the campsite showers – over time she had gotten used to them and forgotten that in actual fact they were fairly cold and low pressure. The warm water running over her was relaxing, and helped her feel a little better. As she got out and dried off, she realised she had left the bag of clothes from Marina by the sofa. She paused, standing on the bath mat, sighing to herself. Not ideal. She wrapped the towel around herself tightly before leaving the bathroom to get it.

Quickly grabbing the clothes, she briefly spotted Phoebe as she went back to the bathroom to change, saw the uncertain look on her face as she stared at Hatchet’s arms, covered in long white scars dragging down from her shoulders to her elbows. Everlasting reminders of her failed attempts to stave off sleep at the test centre, mementos of everything she’d been through and failed to escape. Hatchet looked down, avoiding eye contact as she hurried to close the bathroom door behind her. Letting out another sigh once she was alone, she sat down on the edge of the bath tub with the bag. Hopefully Phoebe just… wouldn’t mention it.

Opening up the bag and pulling out the clothes Marina had given her, she quickly dressed into them. A black sleek dress shirt with a moth print pattern on it and a pair of smart black trousers. They were a fairly good fit, not perfect but close enough that once wearing them she did actually look well-dressed when she glanced at herself in the mirror. Also in the bag had been a scrunchy hair tie, dark blue fabric with a small ribbon tied in a bow attached to one side. A little showier than anything Hatchet would pick out herself, but she figured she may as well put it to use. Putting it on her wrist, she glanced in the mirror at herself, deciding to leave the two frontmost tentacles around her face free and tying the other three back in a simple ponytail. It was surprising what a difference that made to how she looked, and at this point her reflection seemed almost unrecognisable.

Folding the towel up on the towel rack, she stepped back out of the bathroom. Now all she was really missing was a decent pair of shoes. Much as she liked her green boots, they were more than just a little bit scuffed. Hopefully at the interview they’d be more focused on her face than looking down.

“Damn, ‘Atchet, ya look like a different person,” Phoebe said. “Looks great on ya.”

“Thanks…” Not quite sure what to do, Hatchet put the clothes she’d worn yesterday into the bag for now, sitting down on the sofa. She pulled her phone from her jeans as she did so, putting it into the pocket of the trousers she wore.

“Gotta ‘ead off fer the market soon, what time’s the interview?” Phoebe asked, sitting down next to her as she pulled on her trail boots.

“Two pm,” Hatchet replied, getting her own boots on.

“Ya know what yer doin’ fer the day until then?”

Hatchet paused uncertainly. “Didn’t have any plans…” Her normal day would be spent gathering scrap to sell, but she couldn’t exactly do that now and risk ruining the outfit.

“Ya can ‘ang out at the stall again, if ya want,” Phoebe offered.

Hatchet thought, quiet. Well, she wasn’t doing anything else. Phoebe was… easy to be around. Hatchet still wasn’t quite used to having company that she actually _liked,_ but she got the feeling that if she stuck around with Phoebe it might help to keep her nerves in check. “Sure.”

Phoebe smiled at her as she stood. “Glad ta ‘ave ya. The company’s nice.”

Hatchet followed as she made her way out of the apartment, bringing the bag of clothes with her. Glancing at Phoebe as they walked, her questions from the previous night echoed in her mind. “Hey, so… I’ve not really…” Not sure how to word herself, she paused awkwardly. _Ngh._ She groaned at her own inability to form the sentence, pushing the words out. “Sorry. I don’t know jack shit about trans stuff. I don’t wanna fuck up, so I guess I’m asking, what should I do?”

Phoebe glanced at her. “I mean… Ya don’t ‘ave ta do anythin’… Jus’ treat me like ya ‘ave done. Y’know, like a normal person, ‘cause that’s what I am.”

“Well yeah, I get that, but I don’t wanna ask stupid shit that’s rude or insensitive, but I don’t know what would be.”

“Then don’ ask anythin’ ya wouldn’ ask anyone else,” Phoebe said. “The biggest intrusive stuff people tend ta ask is like, ‘oh, so what’s in yer pants’ or ‘’ave ya ‘ad the surgery’ an’ it’s like, none o’ yer business. Don’t ask that kinda thing. But ya wouldn’t ask someone if they were cis, so just go by that.”

“Alright.” Okay. That was easy enough. If it was about what was or wasn’t anyone else’s business she knew those guidelines more than well enough.

“I appreciate ya askin’, though. Seems like ya really actually care about getting’ it right, and that’s nice ta see,” Phoebe said, offering a grateful smile.

They made their way to the market, Phoebe setting up her stand ready for the day. Hatchet helped her where she could, if only because she wasn’t doing anything else. The morning passed slowly without having much to do, but it was amiable enough. The two of them dipped in and out of conversation, picking it up where comfortable and leaving it to drop as it did. Hatchet picked at fruit as the day wore on, eating her fill over the morning as afternoon approached.

Once it passed lunchtime, Hatchet checked her phone, glancing up. “Guess it’s time to head off…”

Phoebe nodded to her. “Good luck. Ya got this.”

“Is it alright if I leave this here for the time being?” Hatchet asked, gesturing at the bag currently containing her own clothes.

“No prob,” Phoebe said. “Go on, I’ll catch ya later.”

Hatchet nodded and finally stepped away from the stand, making her way towards the city centre. She wondered if she should just wait by the window for Off the Hook to notice her and let her in or if, since she was there for an interview, she was meant to see if there was some kind of main entrance around the back. Unsure, she decided to just stick to what she knew, lingering near the window to the studio. She was a little early, having arrived at quarter to, giving plenty of time for the news cast to notice her outside. Eventually Marina spotted her, and she was soon let in. Jittery with nerves, she followed as Marina led her through the corridor of the studio.

“The clothes fit well, I’m glad,” Marina said, smiling slightly. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” Hatchet said stiffly. She drew in a long breath, willing herself to relax. Confidence. That was what everything recommended most highly. Confidence and charisma. She could do this.

Marina led her to an office, knocking on the door. When no response came, she opened it, seeing no-one inside. “Oh. I guess she’s on set or somewhere. Wait here, I’ll go find her.”

With that said, she soon walked away, leaving Hatchet alone in her unfamiliar surroundings. The time passed slowly, Hatchet leaning against the wall as she waited for whoever would show up. Trying to keep her nerves in check, she tapped against the wall with one finger, glancing around. Suspicious thoughts of this all being some awful prank began to stir in her mind when a lionfish turned the corner down the hallway, soon spotting her and walking up.

“Hi, you must be Hatchet. I’m Sandra Radia, the manager,” she said, smiling and offering a hand.

Hatchet took it, giving a firm shake and trying to return the smile in a hopefully relaxed manner. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Here, let me show you around the place and we’ll chat. No need to get worked up about anything terribly formal, we’ll just talk as we go,” Sandra said, guiding her down the hallway.

Sandra gave Hatchet a tour of the studios, chatting as they went. She asked a few questions, mentioning Marina’s recommendation. Hatchet answered as best she could, and made an effort to keep the flow of conversation going, trying to add to it wherever possible. They made their way around the building, eventually arriving back at Sandra’s office.

“Alright, nearly done,” she said, opening the door and ushering Hatchet in. “Take a seat.”

There was a desk in the room that Sandra went around and sat at, and a couple of chairs against the wall adjacent. Hatchet pulled one over to sit opposite her, and she pulled out a piece of paper and pen.

“If you could just jot down your number so I can call you back later,” Sandra said, pushing the stationary towards Hatchet.

Writing down the details requested, Hatchet soon put down the pen, Sandra taking the paper with a satisfied half smile.

“One last thing.” Sandra reached forward slightly over the table, resting her elbow on it with her arm up. “Arm wrestle.”

“What?” Caught completely off guard, Hatchet blinked, staring at her for a moment. Sandra simply grinned, waggling her fingers in invitation. Totally confused, Hatchet figured she didn’t have time to work out whatever this was about, and met her there, grasping her hand with her own.

“Alright. Go,” Sandra said, barely giving her warning before she felt the force exerted against her. Hatchet pushed back, having lost a little ground to the surprise but managed to sustain her position and force Sandra to give back the stolen inch. Caught in the match of strength, the confusion subsided, a competitive spirit taking its place. Hatchet pushed as hard as she could, and she slowly began to push Sandra’s hand down, forcing it back towards the desk. If having to haul dense scrap metal around for money had done anything for her, it was build muscle. The seconds ticked by as Hatchet managed to force her way to victory, pushing Sandra’s hand flat back against the wooden surface.

“Hah. Not bad,” Sandra said, rolling her shoulder slightly once she’d accepted her defeat and smiling. “Well, part of the job is hefting heavy stuff at times, you’ve certainly got me convinced you’ll do fine there. Alright, you’ve got the job.”

 _What._ Hatchet stared at her in disbelief. “…Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Sandra replied, a quirky grin spreading on her face. “Such is the power of knowing people in the bizz. We hadn’t started advertising the position so there aren’t any other applicants right now, and I see no reason why you wouldn’t make a perfectly fine addition to the team.”

“I- Thank you,” Hatchet said, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Sandra stood, and she followed suit, the two shaking hands again.

“You said you were able to start immediately, right? I’ll have to get the paperwork sorted, but it shouldn’t take too long. I’ll give you a call once I know when you can start,” Sandra said, showing her to the exit.

“Yeah. The sooner the better.” Not quite sure how to respond, Hatchet felt a smile spread on her face. Not a forced one, but something legitimately genuine. She _had a job._

“Alright then, I’ll let you know once everything’s sorted. I look forward to working with you,” Sandra said.

“Yeah. You too. Thank you,” Hatchet said again as she headed back outside. Looking back, Sandra nodded, giving her a brief wave before closing the door. Hatchet began to make her way back across the square and towards the market, still feeling the smile on her face. She’d done it. She’d actually _done it_. She had a job, and this time she would have the paperwork and ID for it, and that changed everything. She’d actually have a proper income instead of having to live off the bare minimum. She’d be able to get herself a _home._ It might take a while, and she’d have to go through setting up a bank account and all other sorts of things she’d never been able to do without any proof of ID before, but she would actually _be able to_. All of the struggles of her living situation were, for the first time, tangibly _temporary._ She had a way out of this.

The relief flooding through her was overwhelming, and she felt tears begin to prick at her eyes. _This can all be over. It’s been so many years but it’s going to be over._

Wandering back to the market, the journey seemed to pass by in a blur, Hatchet too wrapped up in her thoughts to pay attention to much. Once she got there and went to Phoebe’s stand to get the bag of clothes, Phoebe soon noticed the smile still lingering.

“Did it go well, then?” she asked, already anticipating the answer with a crooked smile of her own.

“Y-yeah,” Hatchet said quietly, still caught in disbelief. “They gave me the job straight up.”

“Woah, really?” Phoebe asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “’Atchet, that’s great news! Congrats!”

“Yeah,” Hatchet repeated. As it sank in that this really was real, and happening, a strong sense of gratitude began to grow in her. “…Thanks, Phoebe. You really helped.” Between being properly fed, washed, well rested, and the company that helped keep her from getting too worried before going to the interview, it was perfectly true. It was entirely possible that if not for Phoebe’s help she might not have made a good enough impression.

“Aw, ‘s my pleasure, ‘Atchet. I’m ‘appy for ya,” Phoebe said, smiling broadly.

Hatchet paused uncertainly. She felt like words weren’t quite enough to express the depth of her feelings. The only other thing she could think to do was not something she cared for, but… If she was ever going to, now when she was in a soaring good mood would be the only time. Looking aside awkwardly, she quickly stepped forward and gave Phoebe a hug. A very brief hug that she stepped back from before Phoebe even had a chance to reciprocate, but a hug nonetheless.

Phoebe blinked at her in surprise briefly before cracking into a lopsided grin. “Somethin’ tells me I better cherish that moment. Gettin’ an ‘ug from _you_ feels like a real achievement.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hatchet said, grabbing the bag of her own clothes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” Phoebe said, still grinning as Hatchet took her leave of the stand. “See ya later.”

“See you,” Hatchet replied, heading back to the dump. Even the foul smell of the place couldn’t bring down her mood as she found her little shelter and changed back into her own clothes, untying her hair and pulling her raggy cloak back on. Flopping down on the beanbag and staring up at the mudguard above her, there was a newfound sense of freedom within her as she let the tension of the day’s worries melt away.

_Soon. Soon I can get out of this shithole for something better._


	14. The storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the CSA warning starts to come in. again, never outright described, but the next few chapters is where it becomes clear what happened. this chapter also gets the attempted murder warning

The rest of that day and the next passed in a surreal blur, Hatchet still in a giddy state at the good news. She remained practical, though, and knowing that they’d be going out to deal with the AI left her preparing for that. The day after the interview was passed rummaging through junk for scrap as usual, but on Thursday she began getting ready for their evening trip.

Cloudy and overcast, she spent it at the library, having taken the generator with her to charge at a wall socket. Idly reading to pass the time, she received a congratulatory text from Marina at one point, so the manager – _her_ manager, now, too – must have spoken to her about it.

Once the evening drew near and the library closed, she went to the park to burn the remaining few hours, already having everything she needed with her and stuffed into the pockets of her cargo pants, along with the bag of Marina’s clothes ready to be returned. There wasn’t enough time to justify going to get scrap, but she didn’t want to just sit and loiter at the studio for hours, so a walk would do fine.

The time ticked by and eventually it grew late enough to head over. As before, she ducked down the side alley, waiting away from the bustle of the main street. It occurred to her that previously it had been Badger who contacted Off the Hook to let them know they had arrived – this time they weren’t here, and she didn’t have any credit herself. Would Henry even have a phone yet? The room always visible through the window on the street side was already dark and empty, so she couldn’t go and knock on that.

As she contemplated this, Henry arrived, tentatively stepping into the side alley with a weapon case in hand. She made no attempt to hide the scowl that formed on her face when she saw him. _Bastard._ It certainly didn’t give him any more confidence, and he seemed hesitant to approach, uncertain.

“Erm, hello, Hatchet,” he said, eyes darting elsewhere as she glared. She only growled in response, crossing her arms and turning away from him. An unsettled silence fell as they waited, Henry nervously leaning against the wall. Eventually the side door opened, Pearl seeing the two of them.

“Aight, you’re here. Let’s get this show on the road,” she said, inviting them in and showing them up to the rooftop. The pathway through the corridors leading up was becoming familiar to Hatchet, and no doubt soon enough the rest of the building would too. Once more a helicopter rested atop the roof, and they piled in. Marina was already there with her laptop, the solid heavy case she’d had before next to her.

“All here, then,” Marina said as they shut the door, and Hatchet went to sit in her usual corner after handing her back her things. Henry seemed quite happy to sit as far from her as possible, which suited her just fine.

“Good to go,” Pearl said to the driver, and soon the noise of the engine started up, the helicopter lifting off.

“So the plan will be the same as always, since that hasn’t failed us so far. Henry, Hatchet has an EMP we use to shut down the AI’s systems, so while it’s out of commission there shouldn’t be any danger. That said, stay on your guard at all times. We don’t know what it might try to use to prevent what we’re doing,” Marina explained. Henry nodded as she continued. “So, Hatchet uses the EMP, you go in, find the computer and deactivate it. More often than not we’ve also found someone else there, so look for them as well. Meanwhile, Pearl and I will be outside to keep an eye on things. I’ll have my laptop ready, monitoring what I can see and if for any reason the EMP is ineffective I can hack in to help.” Marina paused for a moment, thinking. “I wonder if it’s worth trying to access its files before you go in to check if there’s anyone there. It would save time if there isn’t…”

“What’re the chances of that letting it know we’re there?” Hatchet interjected.

“Depends on how closely it keeps an eye on things, I suppose,” Marina mused. “With how well things have gone, I do wonder what difference it might make even if it did know.”

“It’s not like it’s managed to do, like, anything at all the last few times we’ve been out,” Pearl said. “And Marina didn’t even have to do anything, so even if it does get to try something ‘cause of knowing we still have our backup plan to stop it.”

_Hmm._ Slightly dissatisfied, Hatchet fell quiet. She could see the advantage in knowing whether they needed to search for anyone or not, but didn’t care for potentially giving up the element of surprise.

“I understand that it could pose a risk, but the benefits of knowing might outweigh that. The other option would be taking out the hard drive again so I can check the database once we’re out, but would either of you know what part that was?”

Hatchet shook her head, and Henry didn’t know either.

“So what do you think?” Marina asked.

Hatchet considered it briefly, unable to decide. On the one hand, the less it knew, the better, but on the other, if there was no-one there and they didn’t know that, who knows how long they’d end up wasting just on searching the place. “Your call,” she muttered.

“Henry?” Marina prompted.

“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised they were asking him. “Um, I… I think knowing if we have only one aim or two would be better.”

“Alright. In that case I’ll see what I can find out beforehand,” Marina said. “If we’re lucky it won’t even notice…”

They continued discussing the plan as the journey went on, Marina making sure Henry knew everything he would need to. Hatchet spotted Pearl scowling at her every now and then. _What’s her beef?_ Hatchet huffed quietly to herself. _Probably just me in general._ They eventually arrived, and she felt the helicopter touching down. Grabbing one of the ink tanks from the back of the chopper, she wasted no time in getting out, pulling the clawed gloves from her pockets and connecting them up to the tank once she’d put it on. Looking around, they’d landed in a grassy plain. A little ways from where they’d landed was a copse, and other than that empty grassland stretched around them.

“Guessing it might be that way,” Hatchet said, glancing back to the others. Henry had followed suit in picking up an ink tank, holding a shooter. It wasn’t the one he’d had before, the one that had left a gaping hole in her back, but she still didn’t trust him with it. Even if she at least recognised it as one that was commonly sold for ink sports. Narrowing her eyes, she stopped instead of moving on ahead, waiting for everyone else to start walking.

Marina saw her glaring at him and sighed. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Hatchet scowled. “Sorry for not trusting the guy who _put me in hospital,_ ” she scoffed sarcastically.

“Oh come on, that wasn’t him, it was the AI,” Pearl said, groaning.

“Sure, the AI _using him,_ ” Hatchet growled.

“I’m sorry,” Henry offered, looking aside awkwardly. “I wasn’t… I would never deliberately do anything like that…”

“Don’t apologise, it wasn’t even your fault!” Pearl said, frowning. “Hatchet’s just full of bullcarp. Like always.”

“Clam it, pipsqueak,” Hatchet snarled at her.

“ _Hatchet,_ ” Marina warned. “We’re all here with the same goal. There’s nothing to be gained from starting fights.”

Hatchet growled slightly, narrowing her eyes, but said nothing. She pointedly stayed further back as they began walking to the thicket of trees, keeping an eye on Henry. Occasionally he caught her gaze but quickly looked away, nervous under her scrutiny.

Once they arrived at the copse, it wasn’t overly large, and didn’t take long to find a small building in the middle of it. It could easily be mistaken for an old shed but was still marked with the familiar Kamabo logo. Marina unfolded her laptop as they approached it, and Hatchet pulled out her crowbar to break open the door. Inside was nothing but a lift platform.

“Joy. Lifts again,” she muttered.

“I wondered if this might happen at some point…” Marina said. “While I’m poking around in the files I’ll see if I can try and set up some backup power for it. If you get stuck down there once the EMP goes off that could prove problematic.”

Hatchet huffed. Worst case scenario, she’d have to try and find a way to tear through the roof of it and just climb up the shaft instead.

A brief moment passed in quiet, the only sound being Marina tapping at her keyboard and the trees rustling around them. Soon enough she spoke up again. “Alright, looks like there is someone here. Not a test subject though… Interesting,” she trailed off, clearly deep in thought before she abruptly returned to the matter at hand. “If you set off the EMP once you’re down, the case should keep my laptop safe from there.”

Hatchet grunted in acknowledgement, warily watching Henry. He seemed to realise she wouldn’t go in first, uncertainly stepping onto the lift platform. Hatchet followed, standing with as much distance between them as the small lift would allow as she jabbed at the button to go down. Nothing happened.

In the pause while they waited, Marina looked to her laptop, sitting down so she could leave it on her lap and type properly. “It’s shut down the lift… It must have noticed,” she said. “I should be able to redirect power to it, give me just a moment.”

Hatchet sighed to herself, keeping her finger pressed down on the button as Marina tapped away. She let out a satisfied “There,” just as the mechanisms started up, and the lift began its descent. Hatchet began prying the generator free of the pocket it so tightly fit into, grabbing the tangled cables ready and hooking them up. The lift opened out into a well lit white corridor and she flicked the switch once they’d stepped out, immediately sending them into pitch black. Pocketing the components again, she pulled out her torch. Henry had one of his own at the ready, and he turned it on.

“So… We need to find the person and the computer,” he said uneasily.

“Yeah. Start walking,” Hatchet said gruffly, watchfully noting where his torch shone. In the hand not carrying her own torch she got out the crowbar, ready to start forcing doors open.

“It knew we’re here… Would it have set traps?” Henry asked.

“Everything gets shut down with the EMP. It could try, but they wouldn’t do anything without power,” Hatchet replied scathingly. “The only thing that can do anything without power would be whoever we’re looking for. If it’s anything like with _you_ then even if it tried taking control of them once it’s powered down it can’t make them do anything.” There was a bitter edge to her voice that she made no attempt to keep out. Marina wasn’t here to tell her to _stay civil,_ after all.

Henry didn’t seem to have further questions, or perhaps just didn’t want to talk to her, as he didn’t say anything more. She warily made sure she always knew exactly where he was as they went through, tearing open the doors with the crowbar as they went.

They’d been wandering in the dark for a long while before they found anything of note. The place was deadly silent aside from the sounds of their own actions, and as Hatchet prized the next door open Henry soon flashed his torch through the room – illuminating something in there. Some _one_.

“Alright, step one, found the person,” Hatchet muttered. Looking over them, they looked to be an adult, if a young one, with long curling yellow tentacles. They looked up at the pair of them uncertainly, sat on the floor with some kind of equipment in hand, a set of tools next to them.

“Hey. If you want a ticket out of this hellhole, here’s your opportunity,” Hatchet said.

The person said nothing, staring up at them in shock. _Ugh, don’t tell me this sucker got it so easy they don’t want to leave._ “There’s also not much choice in the matter if you wanna keep on living, since this place is getting shut down,” she continued. “Come on.”

The person remained silent, but gathered up the tools and whatever they’d been working on and stood. Henry seemed to sigh in relief slightly, and Hatchet stepped back out of the room. “Let’s get them out of here before we do anything else,” she said.

“Alright,” Henry agreed, starting back the way they’d come from. “Erm, if it helps at all, we’re like you – we came from places like this, too. The world outside is far better than in here…”

Their new company didn’t say anything, still. Hatchet checked with her torch to be sure they were still there, following. What even was that thing they were carrying, anyway? She couldn’t see well enough to tell in the dark. They made their way back to the lift in relative silence, Henry leading the way. Silence suited Hatchet just fine. She certainly had no complaints with this stranger not being a talkative sort. Once they arrived back at the lift, Hatchet hung back. It wasn’t big enough to comfortably fit too many people anyway, and this place was dead. No need for her to go back up.

“Er… Are you staying down here?” Henry asked.

“Yes,” Hatchet replied tersely, rolling her eyes. “Hurry up.”

“Oh. Alright…” He stepped into the lift, waiting for their silent companion to follow. “Time to see if Marina was able to keep some power back for this thing…”

Apparently she’d been successful in that, as once he pressed the button Hatchet heard it moving. That was mildly disconcerting, as it proved that it was possible for the thing to keep some level of backup power even after the effects of the EMP. Maybe it was only for the lift… Unlikely. Well, whatever. As long as they got to that PC to destroy it, it wouldn't matter.

It wasn’t too long before Henry arrived back down, alone this time. They resumed their exploration of the halls, Hatchet still watching him at every turn. Finding their way back to the rooms they hadn’t checked yet, she took the crowbar in hand, yanking them open once more.

They only had time to check a few rooms when suddenly the lights flickered back on. _Shit._ Hatchet scrambled to pull the generator out again, but it caught on a loose thread of her pocket, stuck. They’d spent long enough in here for it to wear off, and she’d been too focused on making sure Henry didn’t try to pull anything to think about refreshing its effects.

“RX17. You certainly like to make trouble,” that _damned foul voice_ emanated through the halls.

She snarled, trying to ignore it as she yanked at the generator, hoping to pull it free. She could feel the anger bubbling up again, even just having to _hear_ that damn bastard, and it was beginning to make her shake, ruining her dexterity.

“But I think there’s something you ought to know,” it continued, and she tried to ignore it, fumbling with the generator. She managed to finally pull the loose string off of it as the voice continued. “You must be aware by now of the requirements for new life. Would you like to know the source of the other half of the genetic material used?”

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP_ , she screamed in her mind, trying to drown it out as she began to slide the generator from her pocket.

“Because he’s standing right next to you.”

_What._ Hatchet stopped in her tracks. In the light, she turned her gaze to Henry. He was looking up at the speaker, brow furrowed.

“What?” he asked, then turned to Hatchet in confusion. His expression quickly changed once he saw her.

Time seemed to halt for a moment as the words she’d just heard processed in her mind, and all the hatred and anger locked up in her for so long without any target she could tangibly extract it onto shifted.

_You._

Her face contorted into a vicious snarl.

_YOU._

Fangs bared, she roared, leaping at him.

“ _ **YOU!** ”_

Henry yelped in fear, ducking out of the way as the claws of her gloves passed through the space his throat occupied just moments prior. The force with which she’d thrown herself at him carried her crashing into the wall, and she heard him begin to run as she got her bearings again, snarling and sprinting after him, virulent rage coursing through her.

He’d shot a line of orange ink down the hallway and she saw the ripple of his swimming, speeding away. Snarling, she pressed down on the button on her gloves, the ink taps at the end of the claws spitting out a line of her own ink that she flung forward and swam after him. He may have gotten a head start, but she was gaining on him, leaping out of the ink once she got to the end of it and forging a new path. Even as they turned in the corners of the corridors she followed the orange trail, still seeing the ripples ahead of her, seething at them.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she was vaguely aware of the speaker still talking, but she couldn’t hear it anymore, her focus single-mindedly drawn only to him. _Him. He_ had a role in this and _he was going to suffer for it._

Swimming down the corridor, she was faster, she was going to catch up, and then she’d have her hands on his throat and she would _tear him apart-_

So narrow was her determined focus that she didn’t realise where they’d gotten to, not until he stepped up out of the ink and onto the lift platform, quickly pressing down on the button. _Oh no you don’t. Get back here, you **won’t** escape me!_ Only moments behind him, Hatchet leapt up out of her ink towards him, but too late, the elevator doors had closed and the claws of her gloves clattered loudly against them.

“NO!” She roared angrily, beating her fists against the doors. “GET BACK HERE!”

The only response she received was the noise of the lift moving away, and she howled, furious. “I’LL FIND YOU! YOU WON’T GET AWAY FROM ME! _I’LL FIND YOU AND **I’LL KILL YOU!**_ ”

Breathing heavily as she waited for the lift, she pounded her fists against the doors again. Heated anger coursed through her. Finally, _finally_ there had been something tangible she could have _done_ to get some semblance of true revenge, and _that bastard_ had gotten away from her - and by the time the lift came back down and she made her way up, there was no way he would have stuck around. She knew that much. A furious growl emanated from her as she realised the chances of getting to him now would be slim.

_That’s not the end of it. He lives in the city somewhere. He won’t be able to hide from me forever._

For now, he had escaped. For now. It wouldn’t last.

“At every turn you continue to prove yourself nothing but a savage animal,” the speaker taunted her, reminding her of its existence. _That’s right. He’s not the only one who needs to die._

Taking in a deep breath, she tried to steady her shaking hands, pulling out the generator once more. Connecting up the EMP, she flicked the switch, a blanket of darkness descending again. The angry hatred in her wasn’t heated any more as she stalked back through the corridors. It was cold.

Tearing through the rooms, she eventually found the computer and ripped it out of the wall. Alone in the black, she took great satisfaction in beating it apart with the crowbar, burning some of the icy livid fuel within her on leaving it in mangled broken pieces. Breathing heavily and shaking slightly as she walked, she made her way back to the elevator.

Riding back up to the surface, the copse was empty. As she made her way out of it, she was somewhat surprised to see the helicopter still in the field. They hadn’t left her behind. He must have told them what happened. So why?

Well, if they were still here he couldn’t have gotten far. She strode over to it, a mask of calm on her features but her rapid pace giving away her restlessness. She saw Marina waiting outside the helicopter, and she watched Hatchet approach with a cold, apprehensive look. Analytical. It didn’t matter.

“Where is he?” Hatchet said, quiet, calm, commanding.

Marina didn’t say anything, instead pointing. Hatchet looked to where she indicated, searching. Suddenly a heavy thud hit the back of her head. She crumpled as her vision faded, and she was left in blackness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes.... The Henry Event. THE. henry's very bad not good day. this chapter is one i had been itching to write from the start, there were many aspects of the story i didn't know much of the details of when i began writing but this.... this i had in my head from before i started. but here it is, hatchets big old step backwards


	15. Overflow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> csa warning continues, also panic attack

When Hatchet awoke, there was a strong splitting pain in her head. She groaned, moving to lift a hand to her forehead, only to find she couldn’t. Panic flashed through her as she realised her hands were tied behind her back. Snapping her eyes open, she realised she was tied to a chair. _No._ _Not again. NOT AGAIN!_

She writhed against the constraints, struggling. There were people around her, and they were speaking, but she couldn’t hear them, her mind swallowed up by fear, memories of the noise of machinery swirling around her. Trying to break free, the chair toppled, and she fell to the floor. She tried shifting forms but the rope held tight, still wouldn’t let her go. She pulled against it with every ounce of strength she had, and by some miracle it snapped.

Getting to her feet as soon as she could, she grabbed the chair and swung it at the person nearest to her, throwing it at them before bolting to the door. She made it there before anyone could stop her, throwing it open and sprinting through as it slammed against the wall. Running blindly through wherever she was, she found herself in a shop front, and she fled outside, recognising the square. Bright morning daylight covered the area as the terror pushed her through it, running as fast as she could - _away_.

* * *

“Well that’s not good.”

Sheldon stared through the doorway out of the testing range after Hatchet as Lavender rushed to Peppermint’s side.

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly.

“Bruised…” Peppermint picked up the chair that had been flung at her and put it back on its feet. “It hurts, but I think I’m fine.”

When she had arrived at work with Lavender close behind looking to pick up a new weapon to try out, she hadn’t expected to find Pearl and Marina talking urgently with Sheldon and a subdued Hatchet unconscious with them. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on yet, but they had made it clear it was important to keep her restrained. They had only just set her up on the chair when she woke up.

“What’s going on?” Peppermint asked.

Marina sighed, turning to Pearl. “You’d better let Eight and Henry know. Hopefully she doesn’t know where they live.”

Pearl nodded, quickly pulling out her phone and walking away to make a call. Marina looked back at Peppermint, uneasy.

“I don’t quite understand all the details myself, but the AI said something that set her off and now she wants Henry dead,” she said.

“D- dead!?” Lavender echoed, shock clear on her face. “W-why?”

“I’m not sure,” Marina replied. “She was spitting livid when it happened, and Henry looked more shaken than I’ve ever seen anyone, the poor man…”

“Henry… I hope he’s alright,” Lavender said worriedly. “Oh, but… Hatchet didn’t look angry just then…”

“She threw a chair at me…” Peppermint pointed out.

“Yeah, but…” Lavender paused briefly. “Did you see her face? She looked terrified. I think she did that out of fear, not anger.”

“What’s important now is that we need to find her, and make sure Henry is safe,” Marina said. “Do any of you have any idea where she might have gone?”

“I saw her at an abandoned warehouse before,” Lavender said. “But Nattie said that place got destroyed…”

Peppermint thought to herself. Her neighbor, Izzy, had mentioned seeing Hatchet before. Just the once, but even so… It was likely improbable that it would lead to them finding her now, but it was better than nothing. She pulled out the phone she’d acquired, sending a message to her. Maybe she’d see Hatchet and be able to let her know.

“What was it the AI said?” Peppermint asked, curious. What could possibly have made her want to kill Henry?

“I don’t know for sure. He was very shaken up when he tried to tell us what happened, he was… Not entirely coherent…” Marina trailed off, thinking. “I’m not sure. He said it was something about genetic material, or new life, or being a source… It was pretty jumbled.”

Pearl came back towards them, slipping her phone back into a pocket. “Eight knows the deal. She said she’s never seen Hatchet outside of just the two times with the AI, so hopefully she doesn’t go ‘round that part of the city much.” She looked up at Peppermint and Lavender. “By the way, we found another person there. Doesn’t speak much, they’re stayin’ with Eight ‘n Henry for now.”

“Ooh.” Peppermint could understand not speaking much. She hadn’t really been very talkative herself when she first got out of the test centre. She wondered what the new person would be like.

“I should probably go home…” Lavender said quietly. “We asked Izzy to watch Nattie for a while so I could come and look at weapons but now it’s already _been_ a while. She’ll need to go to work herself…”

“How is the scamp, anyway?” Pearl asked. “And thanks for takin’ care of her. We should be able to have her next week.”

“She’s okay,” Peppermint replied. “She likes drawing so she does that with Lavender sometimes… And she likes TV. I still can’t figure out why she’s different though… Is the new person any different like her or the same as us?”

“Newbie’s same as you all,” Pearl said.

“Mmm.” Turning her thoughts to the questions she’d been unable to find any answer for throughout the last weeks, she wondered again what could be the cause of the discrepancy. Something in her genetics, maybe?

_Wait…_

“…You said before that Hatchet was acting weirdly about Nattie, didn’t you?” Peppermint asked.

“Yeah!” Pearl said, suddenly angry. “She was havin’ a go at _us_ and all for not taking care of her or whatever, then she goes and decides she refuses to have _anything to do_ with her! _After_ the kid takes a liking to her! I mean, what the hell?!”

_And Henry mentioned being a source, to do with genetic material, and new life…_ Peppermint felt an awful chill run through her as an idea formed in her mind. It made perfect sense. If that was what happened, it explained Nattie being different, why none of the discoloration from the preservatives was present. There would be no need to prevent the rotting of materials... And if that was what had happened… and Hatchet had never wanted that… No wonder she didn’t want to see her. It wasn’t reasonable of her to blame Henry when he had never had any agency in his past, but Hatchet wasn’t exactly the most reasonable of people.

“…I think I understand,” Peppermint said quietly.

“Hmm?” Lavender asked.

Peppermint looked down at her, not sure what to say. _I don’t think it’s my place to tell people…_

“Nevermind. Let’s just try and find her.”

* * *

Hatchet kept running. She had to get somewhere safe. Where? Nowhere was safe. Somewhere _else_ , then. Just anywhere else. As she ran, she found herself getting out of breath, and as she tired and was forced to slow down she looked around, realising where she was, what she was doing.

She wasn’t held down here. She was out in the open, no locked doors, no white surgical tables, no straps. She was still breathing hard, feeling sick with fear, but she could think again – even if her head was still racked with pain. This wasn’t the test centre and she was never going to be locked up in one of those hellholes again. She hadn’t been paying attention as she ran to where she was going, but looking now, she had found her way to the farmer’s market. Unsure what to do and guided only by instinct, she walked in, made her way to Phoebe’s stall.

Phoebe soon saw her as she approached, looking up and waving. “’Ey, ‘Atchet, ‘ow’s-” She paused, blinking. “Are you okay?”

Hatchet looked aside, shaking her head. She was so very far from okay.

“Oh, ‘Atchet. Come on ‘round ‘ere,” Phoebe said, shifting aside slightly and patting the table next to where she sat. Hatchet did as invited, perching tensely on the edge of the table. Phoebe looked at her, clearly concerned. “Uh… I can give ya an ‘ug if ya want… or is that a bad plan?”

Hatchet quickly shook her head. “Bad plan,” she said quietly. Anything that could feel like it was trapping her in place was definitely a wrong move right now.

“Aight, I ‘ear ya,” Phoebe reassured her. “Ya wanna talk about it, or…?”

Hatchet shook her head again. What could she say? _I tried to kill a guy so I got tied up and that threw me into mindless panic?_ She couldn’t tell Phoebe. She needed something to help her, some _one_. Phoebe was the only person she had. She couldn’t risk that. Phoebe seemed to be deluded into thinking she might be a vaguely decent person, if she knew Hatchet had just tried to end someone’s life that misconception would be gone in an instant.

“Aight,” Phoebe said gently, sounding somewhat uncertain. “’Ey… If there’s anythin’ I can do ta ‘elp, let me know, aight? What about if we go ta Mason’s? Should be open by the time we get there.”

Hatchet looked aside to her. When she said nothing, Phoebe continued.

“We could go siddown in the back, get an ‘ot drink. Somethin’ ta ‘elp ya calm down?”

Hatchet turned her gaze down again. “…What about the stand?”

“It can wait. One day not runnin’ it ain’t gonna ‘urt,” Phoebe said.

“…You don’t have to do that.”

“Sure I don’t, but I still will,” Phoebe said firmly. “Yer a friend, ‘Atchet, an’ right now ya need an’ ‘elpin’ ‘and. Don’t try an’ tell me ya don’t deserve it or any ‘f that trite.”

Hatchet slowly nodded in acceptance, silent. Regardless of what she thought, it sounded like Phoebe was set in her decision. She quickly closed up the stand, leading the way to Caffeine Lover. Hatchet followed her in as she looked around, soon spotting Mason and heading over.

“’Ey, Mason,” she started.

“Phoebs! Good ta see ya,” Mason said, then saw Hatchet. “What brings ya ‘ere durin’ a weekday?”

“Was ‘opin’ we could jus’ sit ‘round the back where ‘s quiet a while,” Phoebe said.

“’F course,” Mason said. “Let me know if ya need anythin’.”

“Thanks, Mace,” Phoebe said, then moved to the counter. “Whaddya want fer a drink? I’ll get it.”

_I don’t deserve this._ Hatchet knew she couldn’t say that out loud, Phoebe would just disagree with her. Looking up at the menu on the wall, she looked at the cheaper options. They had a variety of herbal teas that weren’t as costly as the coffees. “Chamomile tea…” She felt like she’d heard somewhere that that was meant to be relaxing.

“Aight, chamomile tea and a cappuccino,” Phoebe said.

“Gotcha, I’ll bring it around to you,” came a familiar voice, and Hatchet realised it was Izzy behind the counter. She didn’t make any attempt to greet her, silently following Phoebe as she thanked her and went around to the back room, sitting down on the sofas next to the inactive fireplace. Hatchet sat down next to her, wincing as the headache surged slightly. She brought a hand up to the back of her head, feeling the spot where she’d been hit. It was tender and sore, a significant bruise there. Phoebe noticed her do so, her eyes drawn to the spot and she saw the swollen discoloured lump on her tentacle.

“Jeez, ‘Atchet, what’re ya gettin’ yerself into?”

Hatchet didn’t reply. She couldn’t answer that. Silence fell between them, even when Izzy brought their drinks. She seemed to read the atmosphere, not speaking as she gently set them down on the table and walked away, leaving them quiet together. Phoebe looked over, uncertain.

“I know I said it already, but… If there’s anythin’ I can do ta ‘elp, I want to, aight?” she said gently.

Phoebe was probably the only person she might actually believe that from. Hatchet sighed quietly. “Just… be here.”

“Aight. I can do that.” Phoebe picked up her cappuccino, sitting back against the sofa. Hatchet picked up her own drink, feeling the warmth in her hands and trying to relax as she sat back herself.

The panicked feeling slowly subsided, not going away completely but lowering to a less paralyzing level. Hatchet pulled the tea to her lips, and while it was still too hot to comfortably drink, the smell of it was pleasant at least. Sinking back further against the sofa, she sighed. “…Thanks, Phoebe.”

Phoebe smiled slightly. “Any time.”

Hatchet leaned back, blowing gently on the tea to cool it down. Exhausted, she closed her eyes. She sat there in silence, just holding the warm mug in her hand. She wasn’t sure just how long it was for, but eventually the quiet was broken, the sound of soft footsteps approaching, and a familiar voice.

“Hatchet…”

She opened her eyes, looking up. Peppermint was there, standing near the table. An uncertain chill ran through her. Was she one of the ones who had been there before? She wasn’t sure, she hadn’t looked.

“Can we talk?” Peppermint asked.

Hatchet looked aside. _She must know something, if she's asking that._ Feeling helpless, she glanced at Phoebe.

“’O’s this?” she asked.

“Peppermint,” Hatchet muttered.

“I think… It might be better to talk privately…” Peppermint glanced around before looking at Phoebe. The rest of the back room was empty, leaving only the three of them there.

“That alright wi’ you?” Phoebe asked tentatively.

Hatchet gave a slow nod. If it was about what happened, she would rather Phoebe didn’t know.

“Aight. I’ll be out front wi’ Mason.”

Phoebe got up with her cappuccino and walked away, leaving the cold fear settling in Hatchet's chest to grow. Peppermint sat down on the sofa in her place, not quite where she’d been, leaving more space between them. Hatchet sat up slightly, returning the mug of tea to the table.

“Hatchet…” Peppermint repeated, softly, tentatively. She paused before continuing, briefly, hesitant to broach the issue, to address the elephant in the room. When she did speak, it was quiet. “Nattie’s your daughter, isn’t she?” 

The feelings Hatchet had been trying to suppress for so long burst forward as that awful truth tore her open, a searing mixture of white hot anger and raw, overwhelming grief. _So that’s what she knows._ She couldn’t respond, turning away as tears rose in her eyes, her lip quivering. Peppermint looked down at her with an expression of pity, reaching out to her, but Hatchet batted her arm away before it met her. The rage that had swelled within her for so long leaked out, rapidly pulling back up the walls she’d surrounded herself with once more. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she spat, the wavering of her voice audible even with how quietly she spoke. 

“I just want to help,” Peppermint pleaded. “I… hugs always make me feel better, so-”

“Well I’m not the fucking same as you, am I!?” Hatchet said angrily, her voice rising even as it wobbled, the tears pouring from her eyes. “I never have been and I never will be. I’m not like _you_ and _Lavender_ who just got to fucking _learn things_. Or that- that-” She couldn’t continue, couldn’t bear to think of him, the growl she tried to form distorting into a sob. “ _I’m not like you! I’m_ the only one who had to- go through _that_ -” The resolve she had stretched so thin for so long finally crumbled, and she broke down, wailing and covering her face with her hands. _“Why?! Why me!? What did I do!?”_

Peppermint was silent as Hatchet cried, ugly howls tearing themselves from her lips, but she didn’t feel the other experiment try to touch her again. Instead, she heard a quiet question, begging. 

“How _can_ I help you, then?” 

It only prompted a fresh surge of sorrow, tearing through Hatchet and making her curl in, her hands moving away from her face to clutch herself tightly. “You _can’t,_ ” she sobbed. “ _Nothing_ helps.” 

“There must be _something_ ,” Peppermint insisted, but Hatchet heard that she couldn’t keep her voice straight now, either. Slowly dragging her gaze up, she struggled to look through the tears, and sure enough, there were some building in Peppermint’s eyes, too. _Why?_

Her confusion drove her to anger. “The f-fuck are _you_ crying about!?” _Don’t act like you can understand this! You don’t know shit about what I’ve been through!_

Surprised, Peppermint took a moment to respond. “You,” she said, her own confusion written in her voice, overriding the saddened wobbling slightly. “You’re hurt. You’re _miserable_. I care about you, s-so… that hurts me too.” 

Hatchet twitched and trembled as new sobs wracked through her, her rising anguish beginning to overwhelm everything else. The old instinct to snap at Peppermint was still there, to say she was fine and to leave her alone, but it would be a pathetic flimsy lie, with the truth so plain as day. 

“Please, Hatchet, I want to help you,” Peppermint said, _pleaded_. She opened her arms out in an invitation for a hug, but didn’t force it, simply made the offer. “Please trust me.” 

Hatchet wanted to growl at her, but she couldn’t, couldn’t force it through the crying. _Why should I? Why should I trust anyone?_ She didn’t move, sitting there, shivering as her sobbing continued. There was an aching pain within her, not physical, but it was there, raw and excruciating, a deep wound stretching through her hearts and chest. She had always tried to ignore it, bury it, but everything going on had torn it wide open, seeping out like a seething miasma. She couldn’t bear it, howling in her grief as the tears spilled down her cheeks. Nothing ever helped this agony, nothing soothed it. It was the same as when it first formed, gouged into her over the course of those last months, maybe years, before she escaped. 

“Nothing changes,” Hatchet wailed miserably. “N-nothing helps. It just _hurts_ and I can’t _do anything_ about it.” 

Peppermint was quiet, processing her words, considering her response. “...You can change,” she suggested. “You can change something, right here. You… never let anyone help you, but… you could try.” She still held her arms open, welcoming. 

_Never ‘let’ anyone? No-one ever wants to,_ Hatchet thought, but it wasn’t long before she realised how contradictory that was to her current situation. Here she was, utterly distraught and needing something, _anything_ to help her, just like when she had first arrived in Inkopolis - but this time, someone was offering just that - and it wasn’t only Peppermint. Over the last few weeks Phoebe had helped her too, been kind to her, _befriended_ her. She stared up at Peppermint through the tears in her eyes. The empathetic expression of the younger girl was nothing but sincere, without the slightest hint of fear or caution or disgust that people had looked at her with when she walked the streets in blood and rags. She wasn’t just _saying_ that she wanted to help - she honestly _did –_ and it struck her that the same was true of Phoebe.

Another wave of sorrow crashed over her, but her voice was caught on the lump in her throat, silencing her as she trembled, hiccupping. Tears streamed down to drip from her chin as she tore in her ragged breaths. The revelation shook her, and she didn’t know what to do, how to respond. 

“Hatchet?” Peppermint gently prompted, beckoning. 

Sniffing and sobbing, Hatchet stared at her, hesitant. Peppermint shuffled towards her, ever so slightly, slow, careful, watching her reaction as Hatchet looked away. Hatchet didn’t rectify the change in distance between them, didn’t swat at her. Peppermint shifted a little closer again but stopped short of her, not putting her arms around her. 

“I think… you have to do this,” she said. 

Hatchet sniffed again, unable to meet her gaze. It was just one little step. One little silent admission of trust. But that, that felt like an insurmountable task. Trust was still a foreign concept to her, and even with what little of it Phoebe had managed to gain, it was still far from within her nature. It wasn’t something she could just freely give out, she didn’t know how. The suspicion in her mind insisted any kindness was false, any decency a mask to hide what someone really wanted from her. It was incredibly difficult to dismiss that old voice that she had allowed to dictate her thoughts for so long. But she had to _try._

She slowly turned to look up at Peppermint, seeing that earnest expression, her heartfelt concern. She tried to focus on that, willing herself to really, fully _believe_ it. Somewhere in her mind, she knew that she needed to. This pain was far too much for her to bear and she desperately needed support. She may have been able to shove it down before, try to suppress it, cover it up and look away, but she wouldn’t be able to do that again. It wasn’t something she could handle alone - so she had to allow herself _not_ to be alone. 

Slowly, tentatively, she willed herself to move, awkwardly shuffling the remaining distance between them. Peppermint wrapped her arms so gently around her, softly prompting her closer. Hatchet leaned against the taller girl, hiding her face against Peppermint’s shoulder, her tears quickly absorbed in the fabric of her jumper. Peppermint held her, close but not tightly, loose enough that Hatchet could easily break out if she wanted to. She didn’t, misery twitching around her mouth, hiccuping. 

“Thank you,” Peppermint said quietly. 

The sincere concern and relief in her voice brought up Hatchet’s grief once more, and she couldn’t stop a new wail from escaping her, muffled against Peppermint’s hoodie. Peppermint brought a hand up to stroke at her hair, allowing her to cry as the loud sobs and the wet patch on her hoodie grew. 

They sat for a long time, Peppermint simply holding her as she wept. She didn't discourage Hatchet's grieving, didn't try and get her to stop. She just quietly let her do it, soothingly running her hand down Hatchet's hair and back. Somewhere along the lines Hatchet had clung onto the front of her hoodie, the fabric bunched tightly in her clutching fists. 

Eventually the sobbing subsided, and her tears ran dry. She still felt torn open, raw and anguished, but she didn't have anything left in her, no more energy to cry. She didn't move, and Peppermint seemed to understand, maintaining her hold. In the silence, though, she spoke up.

"Listen… It’s not just me, you know… Lavender cares about you too. We just don’t know what to do. I… we both want you to be okay."

_That's one wish you won't get any time soon,_ Hatchet thought bitterly. The sore lump in her throat remained, and she couldn't push any words past it, so she didn't respond. She felt exhausted, having burned through everything she had in her sorrow. She knew somewhere that she needed rest, but… in her current state, the very possibility of having to face the nightmares again made her feel sicker than ever. 

“Do you want to stay with us?” Peppermint asked. “I mean… Maybe not right now, since we’re taking care of Nattie at the moment, but… Next week she’ll be with the others instead. It’s not a really big flat or anything, but it’s at least a proper place to stay…”

“…Why?” Hatchet asked.

“What?” Peppermint said, confused. “Because I care about you… I said that.”

“You… know about her,” Hatchet said quietly, her voice hoarse. “So you must know what I did. You must realise… I…” There weren’t any tears left in her to cry, but she still felt the grief, her jaw trembling as she tried to push the words out. “I abandoned her. Left her there with that abomination.” _And that’s not even getting onto what happened yesterday..._

Peppermint was silent for a while, still gently stroking Hatchet’s hair. “…I think… If that had been me… I think I would have done that too,” she said softly. “If you never wanted that… I can understand doing that.”

Hatchet’s shuddering only grew stronger as she clung to Peppermint’s hoodie. “That still doesn’t make it _right._ ”

“What else could you do? You don’t look much older than me. You were younger, you didn’t have anything…” Peppermint trailed off for a while. “I think you should talk to Lavender about it.”

Surprised, Hatchet furrowed her brow. “Lavender? Why her?”

“She’s good at talking through these things… When I don’t really quite understand what I’m feeling, or if there’s something I’m feeling that I don’t know how to deal with, she’s really good at helping with that,” Peppermint said.

Hatchet vaguely recalled now Lavender mentioning that she liked psychology. Wasn’t that what she’d been learning before? _Cod, am I really thinking of going to a kid like her for therapy?_ She said nothing, tired.

“Are you still… angry at Henry?”

Hatchet tensed, bristling. _So she does know about that part._ She let out a weak hiss.

“It wasn’t his fault…” Peppermint said quietly. “You know he never got to decide what he was doing. The AI was using him. It wasn’t… He didn’t choose to have anything to do with it. I don’t think he would ever do anything like that.”

Hatchet knew, really, that Peppermint was right. She knew that, and yet… The burning desire for revenge was bright and powerful. Even if she knew on some level that he wasn’t responsible, just the fact that he was involved made him the best target for that. If she saw him again, she knew that bitter hatred would still turn on him. She let out a tired sigh. “…I won’t go after him. But he better not show his fucking face anywhere near me.”

Peppermint gave a sigh of her own, though whether it was disappointment or relief, she couldn’t tell. Maybe both. “Okay,” she said simply, before turning the topic elsewhere. “You seem exhausted… Is there anywhere you can rest?”

Well, there was her little camp in the dump, but she didn’t want to go back there. If she tried to sleep there with this searing ache running through her, there was no way she’d rest at all. She shook her head.

“What about the person you were sat with before?” Peppermint asked.

Well, Phoebe had let her stay at her place previously… But Phoebe had done enough already. There was no need to get her any further tangled up in this mess. Silent, Hatchet’s slow attempt to say as much was cut off when Peppermint spoke up again.

“What’s their name?”

Hatchet blinked tiredly, mildly surprised. “…Her name’s Phoebe.”

“Okay. I’ll ask her.”

_What._ Before Hatchet had a chance to protest, Peppermint was getting up, walking back around to the other room. Hatchet stared after her. She wanted to stop her, but she didn’t want to move, exhausted and unwilling to show what an obvious mess she was in front of anyone. Disconcerted, she reached for the tea as she waited. It was drinkable now, and she gulped some down. She didn’t really care for the taste, not thinking about it much. It wasn’t long before Phoebe and Peppermint came back.

“’Ey. Peppermint said ya need somewhere to crash, so of course my place is open to ya,” Phoebe said.

“I-”

“No buts,” Phoebe quickly interjected, cutting her off. “Ya need a good rest. C’mon.” She was looking down at Hatchet with a fierce gaze that told her that she wouldn’t back down.

_How did this end up happening…?_ Hatchet couldn’t find any words to say, instead slowly getting to her feet, downing the rest of the herbal tea and leaving the mug on the table.

“Take care of yourself,” Peppermint said as Phoebe led her out of the coffee shop, waving slightly.

“Phoebe-” Hatchet began, but was soon stopped again.

“Don’t,” Phoebe said. “Don’t try an’ make up some excuse to weasel out ‘f it. Yer a mess, ‘Atchet, an’ I ain’t gonna leave ya strugglin’ on the streets in that state.”

Hatchet wordlessly followed, feeling something rise up in her. She couldn’t place what it was, but she found herself on the verge of crying again. Silent, she could do little more than go with Phoebe, unable to speak.

They soon arrived at Phoebe’s apartment, Phoebe unlocking the door and ushering her in, even as she hesitated.

“Is yer ‘ead okay? That bruise is pretty nasty,” she said as they came in.

“…I do have a headache,” Hatchet admitted.

“’Ere, I’ll getcha some pain killers. Go on, lie down,” she said, pointing Hatchet towards the bed.

“…Not the sofa?”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “No, not the sofa. It ain’t like I’m usin’ it right now, get yerself some proper bed rest,” she said.

Too tired to argue, Hatchet wandered over to the bed, pulling off her boots and getting in. She hadn’t been in a bed in years. She’d forgotten just how _comfy_ they were. Phoebe soon came over with a glass of water and some tablets.

“’Ere, paracetamol fer the ‘eadache,” she said.

Hatchet took the tablets and sank down into the bed, the warm soft sheets drawing her in. With how _nice_ it was to lie down in, and how exhausted she felt, she couldn’t stay up if she tried.

“Is there anythin’ else ya need?” Phoebe asked. “Anythin’ I can do?”

Hatchet glanced up at her, squinting through eyes that really did not want to be open right about now. Phoebe was already doing so much for her. There wasn’t much else she _could_ do, but she was still offering more. Could Hatchet really ask anything else of her?

“Anythin’?” Phoebe repeated.

Hatchet closed her eyes, letting out a tired exhale. There was only one thing that would make a difference, and it wasn’t exactly anything big. It would be alright to ask something as small as that.

“Just… be here.”

She heard Phoebe let out a quiet huff, but was too tired to look for any expression that might accompany it, missing the relieved smile as her exhausted mind gladly fell away from the waking world, only just catching the response.

“Aight. I can do that.”


	16. An attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> discussions of previous topics continue so the csa warning for this chapter still

Hatchet awoke to the feeling of being poked in the cheek, a familiar voice speaking.

“’Ey. ‘Atchet. Wake up.”

She stirred, drawing away from the offending digit, blearily opening her eyes to see Phoebe standing over her.

“You aight? Ya were tossin’ and turnin’ a bunch, it looked like ya might’ve been ‘avin’ a nightmare.”

Furrowing her brow, she did feel a lingering sense of unease, but couldn’t remember anything from her sleep, wasn’t followed by horrendous memories resurfacing as she rested. If she _had_ been having a nightmare, she’d been pulled out of it before the worst, clearly.

“Think so…” she said, yawning. “Thanks… Usually I feel like shit for a good half hour after waking up from those.”

“Ya ‘ave nightmares a lot?” Phoebe asked.

Hatchet let out a tired sigh. “…Yeah.”

“Yeesh. That’s rough. Glad I could ‘elp, then.”

Hatchet blinked the remaining weariness from her eyes, sitting up and looking at her phone. She’d been asleep for a few hours. She also had a missed call, and a message from Marina. _Oh boy._

“Yer free to sleep more if ya want, I jus’ woke ya ‘cause of the ‘ole nightmare thing,” Phoebe said.

Hatchet shook her head. “I’m fine now. …Thanks.” Looking down at her phone, she opened up the message.

_> We need to talk. Peppermint told us you’ve calmed down now but that was completely unacceptable. Pearl’s of half a mind to tell Sandra about it and while I’ve stopped her for now, I partially agree with her. We can talk first, but we need to know if you’re going to be a danger to the people around you._

_Shit._ Of course something like this had to happen _now,_ just after she’d actually gotten a job. They were giving her a chance, at least. But… How could she explain herself? Peppermint seemed to have understood why she’d reacted so poorly, but Peppermint had worked things out for herself. Had anyone else realised yet…? It didn’t seem like Peppermint had told them. If not, Hatchet wasn’t sure she could bring herself to explain, to admit to her own history.

“Somethin’ up?” Phoebe asked. “Yer lookin’ troubled.”

Hatchet sighed. “Yeah…” She could at least say that much, even if she didn’t know how to even start to go into things.

When she trailed off without elaborating, Phoebe paused for a moment, thinking briefly before she responded. “Well, if yer not feelin’ like ya wanna share, I ain’t gonna pry, but if ya wanna talk about it, I’m ‘ere. An’ that goes fer anythin’, aight?”

Hatchet looked up at her as she offered a friendly smile. Phoebe really was too kind to her. Even knowing nothing of her past aside from that she was a thief, she still looked on Hatchet and her plight with such compassion. But even then, a certain wariness still remained in Hatchet – perhaps _because_ of everything she didn’t know. Right now she may care about her, maybe even be her _friend,_ but would that still be the case if she knew about everything Hatchet had done? She’d said before that as long as someone was trying to be better then she’d think well of them. Could Hatchet claim that of herself?

 _I’m just trying to get by._ That was all she’d really thought about it until recently – just trying to survive, good or bad was irrelevant. But now that she had more than just the bare minimum, she found herself wondering if she deserved it, and suddenly it _mattered_ if she was a good person or not. Could she be one?

If Phoebe’s criteria was anything to go by, then maybe. If she tried to be a better person today than she was yesterday… Well, taking that literally would make it easy enough, all she had to do was not try to kill anyone and she’d be a step up from the Hatchet of the previous day. She let out a quiet huff, smirking slightly at the grim humour.

Phoebe noticed, smiling somewhat herself. “Whatcha smilin’ about?”

Hatchet shook her head as she got up out of the bed. “Nothing.” Thinking about yesterday and the consequences of it, she knew what she had to do next was talk to Marina and Pearl. If she was going to keep her job, she’d have to, by the sounds of it. She pulled her boots back on, doing up the laces.

“’Eadin’ out?” Phoebe asked.

“Yeah. Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“Any time,” Phoebe said.

Going to the door to let herself out, Hatchet paused slightly. Being honest was a good thing to do, wasn’t it…? Even if she wasn’t sure she could bear to go into it, that wasn’t the only way now. And if she wanted to know if Phoebe would still care about her once she knew…

“…Hey… If you want to know more about… me, I guess, ask Peppermint about it,” she said slowly. “…She works at Ammo Knights in the square. If she seems unsure about anything, tell her I said to tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Ya want me to do that?” Phoebe asked.

Hatchet hesitated uncertainly. “…It’s not something I can really… talk about myself.”

“That so…?” Phoebe was quiet for a moment, considering. “Aight. I’ll talk to ‘er.”

“…Mmm.” Hatchet finally turned to go, waving slightly. “See you around.”

“See ya. Come find me anytime if ya need anythin’.”

Hatchet left, sighing to herself slightly once she’d shut the door behind her. It was a little nerve-wracking, having done that. It was a risk – she didn’t exactly have many people she could rely on. But at the same time, if she didn’t tell Phoebe about her past, she’d have the perpetual fear hanging over her of how she’d react if she found out. Better to be honest and get whatever it would be over with. Phoebe seemed to have some odd level of faith in her, for whatever reason. Hopefully it would be enough that she’d still willingly be her friend regardless.

Walking towards the city centre, Hatchet felt her nerves rising, on edge. She wasn’t sure what she would say to Marina and Pearl at all. She had no choice but to try and salvage things, but how she’d go about that was lost to her. It was too soon that she arrived at the square, uncertainly taking a seat on the bench outside the lobby opposite the window. Reluctant to face the music, she kept her head down, vaguely hoping they wouldn’t spot her out the window. A misguided hope, as even with her refusal to look up, she soon felt her phone going off, a message from Marina telling her to go around to the alleyway. She let out a heavy sigh, standing and going to meet them.

When she arrived at the side door, Marina was already there, fixing her with a steely look. She didn’t say anything, silently leading Hatchet through to the small dressing room she’d been in with the two of them before. Pearl was there already, and Marina shut the door behind them once they were inside.

“So. Here’s your chance to explain yourself,” Marina said, sitting down and crossing her legs. Pearl stood near her, glaring at Hatchet warily.

Hatchet looked aside uncertainly. “…I’m not going to do anything now…”

“Peppermint told us as much. But why did you do that in the first place? Is it likely to happen _again?”_ Marina asked.

“It won’t,” Hatchet said, but couldn’t find it in herself to elaborate.

“What even was it that set you off?” Pearl asked suspiciously.

Hatchet kept her gaze elsewhere, silent.

“We need to know what it was if we want to avoid a repeat of this,” Marina said sternly.

“It’s _not_ going to happen again,” Hatchet said, shivering slightly. “…As long as he stays away from me, it’s never going to happen with anyone else.”

“And if he doesn’t? If the two of you happen to cross paths in the square or something like that, what then?” Marina asked, frowning.

“Then I’ll tell him to get the hell away from me and walk away,” Hatchet growled. She could do that much. She should be able to do that much. Probably.

“He hasn’t even done anything!” Pearl said angrily. “The hell is your problem with him, anyway?”

“ _I know that!_ ” Hatchet spat, and she could feel herself slipping back into old habits. “I _know_ that, but it doesn’t fucking change anything. Just leave me alone.”

“ _Attempted murder_ is _not_ the kind of thing we can just leave alone,” Marina said, fixing her with a cold glare. “Pearl is right. He can’t have done anything to justify this. Whatever you’re blaming him for, you’re being unreasonable.”

“I said _I know,_ ” Hatchet repeated tersely. This wasn’t getting anywhere. Growling slightly, she drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“It sure seems like the more we know about you, the more of an asshole you clearly are,” Pearl said crassly. “It was bad enough when you were just fuckin’ rude all the time, but then tossing aside that kid, then trying to kill Henry, and now saying you still hate him even though you _know_ it was nothing to do with him? What the fuck?”

The latter half of her words were lost on Hatchet, the mention of Nattie catching in her mind. “I’m not…” _Tossing her aside._ She wasn’t doing that, was she? Was she? She trailed off, fell silent as tears grew in her eyes. If she refused to have anything to do with her, left her for someone else to deal with, was that really any different now to five years ago?

_Am I doing the same thing all over again?_

For years, she had been ashamed of herself, for leaving her behind. Even when she was certain there wasn’t any better option - that if she had stayed behind she would have ended up dead and if she had brought Nattie with her then she wouldn’t have been able to keep them both fed - it still bore into her. That had been leaving her with that damned _thing_ , though, not reasonable people who could take care of her properly – but that wasn’t the only difference now. If she could maintain this job and get herself a proper place, maybe she _could_ feasibly take care of Nattie herself. Even though none of the situation was the same, Hatchet was running away from her all over again. The realisation knocked the wind right out of her, and tears began to run down her cheeks as she tried to catch it again.

“Don’t think you can just start crying and get out of it like th-”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Hatchet interrupted Pearl’s words, but the tone lacing her voice was desperation, not anger. _I can’t do that to her again._ “ _Nattie_. Where is she?”

“What, do you wanna go be unreasonable at her too!?” Pearl snapped.

“ _Fuck off, she’s my fucking daughter!”_

Both Pearl and Marina stared at her in shocked silence, eyebrows raised in surprise. A moment of quiet fell between them before anyone spoke again.

“…How…?” Marina uttered in disbelief.

“That doesn’t matter right now!” Hatchet said, tormented, the tears continuing to flow as she spoke. “Fuck, because that asshole doesn’t give a shit what anyone else wants or not, whatever! I- I’ve fucked things up so much already, I have to do _something_ right, I have to see her. Where is she?”

“She’s with Peppermint and Lavender,” Marina said quietly.

That was right. Peppermint had mentioned as much. Wiping her face on her sleeve, Hatchet rushed from the room, quickly leaving the studio and crossing the square to Ammo Knights. Peppermint was there at the workbench in the corner, and Hatchet went over to her immediately. She heard her approach, looking up, concern quickly rising on her face.

“Hatchet?”

“I need to see Nattie,” Hatchet said quietly, her voice quivering slightly.

Peppermint stood from the workbench, opening her arms out in invitation. Hatchet sighed slightly, but accepted, letting Peppermint hug her. It didn’t really make her feel any better, but she knew it was just Peppermint’s way of trying to help. She still pulled away from it soon, impatient. Peppermint turned to the counter, looking to Sheldon.

“Is it okay if I go for a while?”

The small crab looked up at the two of them, wearing an uncertain expression when his gaze fell on Hatchet. A moment later he sighed. “It’s fine. If you’re gone for too long I might want you to make up the hours, though.”

“Thanks,” Peppermint said, smiling slightly before she turned to Hatchet. “Let’s go.”

Hatchet followed her as she left the shop, walking quickly. Peppermint seemed to note her hasty pace, speeding up slightly herself.

“How come you changed your mind?” Peppermint asked.

Hatchet didn’t respond immediately, and when she did it was quiet. “…I already left her behind once. I won’t do it again.”

“Even if you never wanted any of that?”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Hatchet said, a level of determination holding strong in her voice even as it wavered. “She had nothing to do with that. She doesn’t deserve to be punished for the AI being a sack of shit.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Peppermint looked down at her, watchful.

“…That doesn’t matter.”

Peppermint paused in her tracks, putting a hand on Hatchet’s shoulder to stop her too. “It _does_ matter,” she said pointedly. “ _You_ matter. I agree that Nattie shouldn’t have to suffer because of what the AI did, but neither should you.”

“It’s too late for that,” Hatchet muttered, looking away. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll deal.”

Peppermint continued to watch her for a moment, quiet as she let go of Hatchet’s shoulder. “…Okay. But I’m here with you. If it’s hard… I’m here.”

They continued walking, and Peppermint led her to a block of flats, one that looked a little shabbier than Phoebe’s. Hatchet followed her up a flight of stairs to a flat on the first floor, and as she opened the door she called in. “Back for a bit,” she said. “And Hatchet’s here.”

Hatchet nervously went with her into the flat, looking around. In the sitting room they had walked into was a sofa facing a TV, and on it sat Lavender and Nattie, both looking towards the door. Anxious, Hatchet watched, gauging her reaction as she walked in. Nattie stared up at her for a moment, expression unreadable. She got up off the sofa and walked over.

“Hatchet,” she said simply.

“…Hey,” Hatchet said weakly, crouching down in front of her. Even just being here in the same room as her was making the nausea rise, but she wouldn’t just leave. Not again. She slowly opened her arms out. “…Hug?”

Nattie broke out into a bright smile, quickly wrapping herself around Hatchet. Overwhelming relief spread through Hatchet as she did so, bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She hugged Nattie close to her, trying to hold back the tears threatening to run down her face again.

“I thought you were angry at me,” Nattie said. “You didn’t want to be there…”

“No,” Hatchet said quietly, her voice quivering slightly. “No, I’m not angry. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She pulled Nattie in a little closer, holding her tightly. “You didn’t do anything. I’m just… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Nattie asked, confused. “You saved me.”

Hatchet shook her head slightly, sighing. There was no way she could begin to try and explain to her. Not now. She was too young for all of that mess. _I’m here now. That’s what matters._

Nattie didn’t let go of her, and she eventually drew back, patting her back slightly before she straightened up. Nattie grabbed her sleeve and pulled her over to the sofa. They sat down and Nattie leaned against her, still holding her arm. Lavender watched them from where she sat with an expression Hatchet wasn’t quite sure of.

“Hi, Hatchet,” she said softly.

“…Hey,” Hatchet said awkwardly.

“Um… How are you doing?”

Hatchet looked aside, silent. She felt sick, and she wasn’t sure what all the mixed bag of emotions rolling with in her could be called, and she was definitely still far from having gotten herself together. She wasn’t sure how long she could be around Nattie with how strong the nausea was just from seeing her, but she would try. “…Getting by.”

“Where do you live now if the place is gone?” Nattie asked.

Hatchet’s ear twitched, her brow furrowing slightly. “…Nevermind that.”

“Does that mean you don’t live anywhere?”

“I stayed with a friend,” Hatchet replied. That was technically true, even if only for one night.

“Ohh,” Nattie said.

“Do you have any kind of plan for… what you’ll do about that?” Peppermint asked, perching on the arm of the sofa.

“I… _might_ have a job,” Hatchet said quietly. It occurred to her that she had cut short her talk with Marina and Pearl, and they probably weren’t satisfied with the incomplete conversation they’d had. She likely would have to go and talk to them again later. “If I manage to keep it, then I can get a proper place…”

“That’s good to hear,” Peppermint said. “If you need any help in the meantime, you can rely on us… It might be a little crowded with so many of us here, but it’s better than you having nowhere to go.”

Hatchet said nothing, staring down at the ground. The room fell quiet for a moment, and in the silence Nattie shifted slightly, clutching her arm. Hatchet looked at her as she did so. _That’s my daughter._ Her stomach churned as the memories of what she’d had to endure surged forwards, and she looked away again, torn as the aching pain in her chest seared suddenly.

“I can’t stay,” she said quietly, gently pulling away from Nattie’s hold and standing from the sofa.

“You’re going already?” Nattie asked, disappointed.

“Mm… Things I have to do,” Hatchet muttered. She glanced down at Nattie, reaching down to pat her head. “I’ll see you again later.”

“Okay,” Nattie said, hopping up off the sofa to hug Hatchet’s leg. Hatchet rubbed her back slightly as she let go, trying to offer a shaky smile.

“See you later,” Lavender called as she went.

Peppermint followed her as she left the apartment, quickly making her way outside. Once out in the open air, she let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay?” Peppermint asked as they began walking back towards the city centre.

“…Not really,” Hatchet said. “But… she didn’t seem upset at me.”

“No. She was scared it was you who was upset with her,” Peppermint replied. “Was that hard to do?”

Hatchet was quiet, nodding slightly.

“Mm… You did it anyway, though,” Peppermint said gently. “I think… that’s good of you.”

“It was barely a few minutes,” Hatchet said, unconvinced.

“You still did, though. And now she knows you’re not upset with her. She was really sad about that,” Peppermint continued.

 _Great. So I already made her miserable._ Hatchet frowned, sorrowful. Peppermint seemed to notice, as she spoke up again hastily.

“But she was really happy to see you just then. And she told us about how you took care of her when she got stuck and saved her life when they were taking down the warehouse. Even if she doesn’t know who you are, she’s already gotten attached anyway…”

Hatchet sighed. “Is that really a good thing? Wouldn’t it be better for her to take a liking to someone like you or Lavender who can be around her without it being…”

“I don’t know,” Peppermint admitted. “But, well… She does like you particularly, whether that’s the best option or not. I think we can only try to work with how it is.”

Hatchet huffed quietly to herself, saying nothing. That was the only course of action available to her, as always. Try and make the most of what it was. On which end, she still needed to try and patch up her potential job. As they arrived at the square, she glanced over at the studio.

“Hey. You have a phone you can actually use, right?” Hatchet asked.

“Yes?” Peppermint said, curious.

“Can you let one of Marina or Pearl know I can talk more?”

“Okay,” Peppermint replied, getting her phone out. A moment later, she pocketed it again. “I told them.”

“Thanks,” Hatchet muttered, going to make her way over to the studio again. She paused when she felt Peppermint’s hand on her shoulder again.

“Hatchet?”

She turned to Peppermint, looking up at her. Peppermint was watching her gently.

“Um… I already said, but… I think seeing Nattie was a good thing to do. Even though it was hard for you… Um…” Peppermint trailed off, seeming uncertain of her words as she paused briefly. “I think what I mean is, I’m proud of you.”

 _What?_ Hatchet blinked at her in surprise, completely caught off guard and left speechless. Peppermint smiled at her.

“Well, I’d better get back to work. See you later. And… good luck.”

With that, Peppermint made her way back to Ammo Knights, leaving Hatchet dumbfounded and uncertain in the square. Hatchet slowly made her way over to the bench by the lobby, unsure what to think. Sitting down to wait for any sign of the newscasters, she quietly contemplated Peppermint’s words. If the younger girl was right, and even that tiny amount of time she’d managed with Nattie could count as something good… Maybe she could be a better person after all.


	17. Wandering, wondering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for discussion of the csa stuff continuing, panic attack

Hatchet waited uncertainly outside the lobby once more. It wasn’t long before she got another text to tell her to go over to the studio, and soon enough she found herself in the dressing room with Pearl and Marina again, still lost on what she would say.

“Well… Did you get to see her?” Marina asked.

“…Yeah…” Hatchet looked aside, reluctant to make eye contact. She wished she was better at this, wished she could _be there_ for Nattie, but even seeing her brought everything right to the forefront of her mind, and it was just too much. The poor kid was just another victim of the AI’s vile machinations, but it didn’t change that Hatchet couldn’t bear to be around her, not for long.

“You weren’t a dick to her, were you?” Pearl asked warily, eyes narrowed.

“Can you fuck off?” Hatchet growled. “ _No._ I went there, I gave her a hug, we sat down and talked for a bit. I told her I wasn’t mad or anything when she asked…”

“That’s better than before, I guess,” Pearl admitted reluctantly, still scowling at her. “What got you to finally clean up your act with her, anyway?”

Hatchet thought back to the moment of her epiphany, what prompted it, and internally groaned as she realised it had been what this annoying pipsqueak had said that did it. There was no way she’d give her the satisfaction of knowing that-

“It was right after what _you_ said, Pearlie,” Marina said gently.

“Oh please, as if this prick would listen to a word I-” Pearl began, scoffing, but stopped when she looked over at Hatchet. She'd felt her face heating immediately once Marina pointed it out, scowling and looking aside. “…Wow. You actually _did_ listen,” she finished, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“…Shut up,” Hatchet muttered quietly, earning a snort from her in response.

Marina smiled, laughing slightly. “Pearlie can be very good at cutting to the heart of things,” she said.

“Are ya gonna be better about Henry, then, too?” Pearl asked.

Hatchet narrowed her eyes, growling slightly at the mention of his name. “I still don’t want that bastard anywhere near me. Even if… Even if I _know_ it was that fucking AI, I’ll still just get angry if I have to see him.”

“Speaking of Henry,” Marina said softly. “Am I right in thinking that he’s… the father?”

Hatchet felt a snarl twitching around her lips, baring her fangs as she stared aside, pointing her glare at a mark on the floor. “…Apparently so.”

“How does that work?” Pearl asked, confused. “If that’s what happened, how could you have not known about it until the AI said? Surely you woulda recognised him.”

Hatchet let out a strained hiss, curling in on herself slightly. “He wasn’t actually there himself. No-one else was. It was all just… needles and syringes…” She growled weakly, a tremor running through her as she tensed, clutching her arms. She didn’t care to revisit those memories, hating the pathetic feeling of helplessness it spread through her.

“Jeez…” Pearl said, trailing off. “That’s… really fucked up.”

“Mm…” Marina agreed. “I think everyone guessed you’d been through something awful, but… I never imagined it would be something like that.”

Hatchet was quiet for a moment, trying to collect herself. “…Well, now you know.” She sighed, then narrowed her eyes. “That’s why I fucking hate that thing so much.”

“Yeah, I can get that,” Pearl said, though now her own voice was tinted with anger, and she growled. “Seriously! What the _fuck?_ Now I just wanna get rid of that asshole even more.”

“We can agree on that much, at least,” Hatchet muttered acerbically.

“Well, getting back to what we were initially worried about, I suppose if that’s what it was all about then you were right in saying it wouldn’t happen with anyone else,” Marina mused.

“…So you won’t get me fired before I even start?” Hatchet asked warily.

“Honestly, I’m not sure how Sandra would react if she knew anyway. She’s… an interesting one,” Marina said.

“Yeah, I got that,” Hatchet murmured, thinking back to the arm wrestle. That definitely had not been something she expected.

“Well, Pearlie?” Marina asked. “What do you think?”

“I guess if you’re chill and it’s not gonna happen again, then it’s fine…” Pearl said, though narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. I still think you’re a prick. But I guess I can see where that’s coming from, and if you went ‘n did something decent with the kid, I should give you a chance to prove you really can be better.”

Hatchet breathed out a sigh of relief. “…That’s fair. Thanks. I… really need this.”

“Oh, on that note, I also got the post with your ID and stuff,” Marina said, reaching down to a bag beneath the table and pulling out a thick brown package. “There’s a lot of important paperwork in it, do you have anywhere safe to keep it all?”

Hatchet blinked, gingerly taking the package containing something so vital that she had thought she would never have. “I… not really.”

“If you want, you could just take the actual ID card and I can keep hold of the rest of it until you have somewhere you could keep it,” Marina offered.

“…Sure… thanks,” Hatchet said awkwardly, carefully opening the package. Pulling out the contents, at the front was a letter with the card in question stuck to it. Prying it off, she put the letter back and handed the rest to Marina again, staring down at the little card. There it was. There, in her hand. There was her name, her date of birth, the completely unflattering photo of herself she’d gotten at the post office’s photo booth. And there, to one side, stating she was a citizen of Inkopolis. Her dislike for the city was overshadowed in that moment, dwarfed by this proof of her existence, this crucial little piece of plastic that enabled her to grab hold of her own future. This one thing that would allow her to get a job, open a bank account, get herself a home.

“Even Eight didn’t stare at hers that long, cod,” Pearl said derisively.

Hatchet scowled at her. “The main reason the last half a decade of my life has been hell was because I couldn’t _get_ one of these, fuck off,” she growled. “ _You_ try living with nothing and no way to do anything about that for five years, see how you feel when you get a chance to change it.”

Marina rolled her eyes, sighing. “This is something _good_ for you, can you not start fights over it?” She turned to Pearl, reaching over and pulling her into her lap. “And Pearlie, don’t provoke her.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Pearl said, leaning back against Marina.

Hatchet pocketed the little ID card, looking aside. “So… we done?”

“I suppose so,” Marina said. “We’ll have to go for the news soon, anyway.”

Hatchet nodded, turning to leave.

“Bye, then,” Pearl scoffed sarcastically, clearly unimpressed with her disinterest in saying anything. Hatchet rolled her eyes, ignoring her. Making her way out of the studio and promptly leaving the city centre, she wandered back towards the dump. After another day full of emotional ups and downs, she felt exhausted, and soon flopped down on the beanbag, even after having taken a nap at Phoebe’s. She didn’t have enough cash to be idle, though, so only stayed down for a little while, grabbing one of her snacks to eat before going out to look for scrap. Maybe on the way she would find more things to pad out her attempt at a home.

* * *

The following Monday, Hatchet decided to put her new ID to use, heading to a bank. Presumably it wouldn’t be too long before she could start working, and she would need an account for them to pay her. She ended up needing an address for that too, though, so gave up on it briefly, wondering what to do. Marina had been the one to put down an address for her last time, but… Marina had just been the one who was there at the time. No-one was here with her for now, and aside from that… It was a strange thought, but there were people she would rather ask. People she could _willingly_ ask something of.

Already nearer the city centre, she made her way towards Ammo Knights, quickly weaving through the crowds. Heading inside, she saw Peppermint, fiddling with a half-disassembled splatling. The crab was there too, and watched her with a guarded look as she walked over.

“…Hey,” she said quietly.

Peppermint looked up from the splatling. “Hi, Hatchet.” She stood, opening her arms out in invitation.

Hatchet’s ear twitched, and she frowned slightly. “You know I don’t _like_ hugs, right?”

“What?” Peppermint looked at her with such an expression of shock that one might think she’d just been slapped across the face as her arms dropped. “Why? Hugs are so nice.”

“Not to me, they aren’t,” Hatchet replied, rolling her eyes. “Not everyone’s gonna like the same things as you, y’know.” _Cod, what is she, a child?_

“But hugs are just nice and warm and comforting…”

“They’re restrictive,” Hatchet said flatly.

“You seemed fine with hugging Nattie…”

Hatchet’s eyebrows pulled up, twitching slightly as she looked aside. “…She’s fuckin’ tiny, she couldn’t hold me anywhere if she tried.”

“So it’s nothing to do with her being important to you?”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes slightly. “Shut up.” _So what, she’s my kid. Of course she matters to me in some way or other._

Peppermint smiled gently. “It’s okay to say you care about her.”

Hatchet growled slightly, her glare fixed determinedly on the floor. She wasn’t _used_ to this kind of thing. Everyone already had their opinions and expectations of her, and she highly doubted this fit into it. She had always been quite content with everyone knowing her as hostile and callous, leading to them keeping their distance. Much as she _knew_ that she couldn’t keep pushing everyone away if she wanted to deal with things properly, it didn’t change old habits. Even if a couple of people had earned a little of her trust, that didn’t mean she knew what to do with it. Although… That was why she was here in the first place.

Keeping her eyes down, Hatchet shifted awkwardly as she tried to force out a request she didn’t know how to form. “Anyway… I wanted to… ask something.”

“Hmm?” Peppermint watched her quietly, waiting.

Hatchet sighed, trying to ignore how completely out of her element she was to speak the words regardless. “Trying to set up a bank account. They need an address, so… Can I use yours?”

“Of course,” Peppermint replied, without hesitation. She walked over to the counter and dispensed some paper from the till’s receipt printer, taking a pen and writing on it before passing it over. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Hatchet muttered uncertainly, briefly glancing over it before stuffing it into her pocket next to her ID and turning to leave, pausing only when she heard Peppermint speak up again.

“If you don’t like hugs what do you do instead?”

Hatchet furrowed her brow, looking up at the taller girl. “I don’t _do_ anything.”

Peppermint seemed dissatisfied. “I want to do _something,_ but if you don’t like hugs I don’t know what I should do.”

Hatchet groaned. “Oh my cod, if you’re going to be annoying like this then _fine,_ just get it over with already. And if you hug too tight I _will_ bite you.”

Peppermint paused, tapping her fingers uncertainly for a moment before setting aside whatever her reservation was, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Hatchet and pull her in gently. Hatchet huffed slightly to herself but didn’t resist. Peppermint had the sense to leave it fairly loose, though leaned her head against Hatchet’s.

“I just want you to know that I care,” she said, rubbing Hatchet’s back slightly. “And I usually do that with hugs.”

“I _know_ ,” Hatchet growled, narrowing her eyes as a well of emotion threatened to rise. “Why do you think I’m _here?_ ”

“For… the address…?”

The confusion was clear in Peppermint’s voice, and Hatchet sighed, annoyed. She didn’t want to explain this. She pulled away and Peppermint quickly let go of her, a clueless expression written all over her face. Hatchet ignored it, walking away. She heard a farewell from the other experiment as she left, making her way out of the square. Going down a thankfully less busy street heading to a less crowded part of the city towards the bank, she stopped when she heard her name.

“Hatchet!”

She turned to where it came from, the sound quickly followed by someone small running over and attaching herself to her leg.

“Nattie…?” Hatchet blinked in surprise, placing a hand on her back and looking around as a familiar nausea spiked in her stomach. _Why is she out here alo-_

The thought was cut off midway as she spotted Lavender walking over to meet her, giving a small wave. “Oh… Hi, Hatchet.”

“…Hey,” Hatchet replied.

“We were on our way to the park. D’you… want to come too?” Lavender asked.

“Yeah! Come with us! Come with us!” Nattie chirped, taking her hand and shaking it up and down as she bounced on the spot.

“Uh. Sure,” Hatchet said. “I’m free…”

“Yay!” Nattie didn’t let go of her hand, near enough running ahead. Hatchet walked along quickly to avoid being pulled.

“You’re sure excited,” Hatchet noted.

“Being inside all the time is boring!” Nattie replied.

“She’s been restless all morning, but we had to stay in because we agreed to wait on a parcel for the neighbour,” Lavender explained, keeping pace with them. “Pretty much as soon as it arrived she was hopping at the door.”

“It took _soooooo long,_ ” Nattie whined dramatically.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Hatchet said, letting out a small amused huff. _She’s… happy to see me…_

Lavender seemed to catch the hint of a smile, her expression softening slightly. “It’s nice to see Hatchet, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Nattie paused, turning to face Hatchet and leaning back on her heel, pulling on Hatchet’s arm to balance there for a moment before bouncing forwards and hugging her. It wasn’t for long, and she soon tore off again, still full of energy. Hatchet kept up with her, making sure she stayed on the pavement. She glanced aside to see Lavender keeping up as well.

“So… You doing alright taking care of her?” Hatchet asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Lavender said, nodding. “She’s great, she loves coming outside and running around, and when she’s had a chance to burn off energy she’ll happily sit and read or draw. She can be a little stubborn, but it’s fine.”

_Wonder if she gets that from me…_ Hatchet paused, realising she didn’t really know anything about childcare. Somehow she was doubtful that whatever curriculum the AI had set for the others would cover it. “You two know what you’re doing with it, or…”

“Oh, I picked up some books from the library,” Lavender replied. “They had a couple that were super well-recommended so I borrowed those ‘n read them. Peppermint’s halfway through one, I think.”

_They’re putting the effort in to make sure they do it properly._ Hearing that helped set Hatchet’s mind at ease slightly. “Thanks…”

“Hmm?” Lavender looked at her curiously, though didn’t say anything more, only wore the question on her features.

_Did Peppermint not tell her?_ Hatchet glanced at Nattie, striding along just ahead of them. She couldn’t bring it up in front of her, so let it drop for now. They continued walking and it wasn’t long until they got to the park, the one Hatchet was familiar with and frequented to scavenge from the fountain. Nattie quickly bound ahead as they arrived, running onto the grass.

“Don’t go too far!” Lavender called after her. “Make sure you can always see us!”

“Okay!” Nattie yelled back, already darting over to investigate a large stick on the ground.

Hatchet watched her as she picked it up, apparently deciding it would be perfect as a walking cane and running along with it. Walking along the path with Lavender at a more leisurely pace, she spoke up now that Nattie was out of earshot. “How much do you know about her?”

“You all rescued her from another test centre and she’s about five years old, at first the others tried seeing how she’d fare with social services but she ran away from there. You found her and took care of her then, and after that we decided to take care of her ourselves. I know on one day we went into town when it was busy and got separated, and it ended up with you rescuing her from a warehouse mid-demolition.”

_No mention of her parents in there._ “…And how much do you know about me?” Hatchet asked, quieter.

“…Not a lot,” Lavender said. “Well, I know you help with dealing with the AI, and… I saw you at a warehouse before, so I guess you were living there… Before it got taken down. That’s kind of it, really. Peppermint seemed to work something out but she didn’t say what. And… I know about… What happened with Henry.”

Hatchet near enough flinched at hearing his name, looking away and holding back the growl trying to rise in her throat. When she stayed silent, Lavender spoke up again, her voice sounding somewhat tense.

“Why is it that you’re angry at him?”

_None of your business._ That instinct held strong, but Hatchet bit down on the words. So Peppermint had kept her mouth shut. With how much she insisted on involving herself in Hatchet’s business, she had assumed she was the nosy type, but perhaps not if she was respecting her privacy. Thinking back on it, maybe the same was true of Lavender. She’d never returned to the warehouse after finding her there before, and it seemed like Nattie just found it by chance, so apparently Lavender had kept her secret too.

Peppermint had suggested she talk to Lavender about it all, and maybe it would be worth it to try and reach out to her a little too, but… Hatchet drew in a long breath, trying to breath out the residual anger with it as she let it go. “I… well… it’s to do with all my bullshit. Fucking… I’m just a mess. Not that that’s gonna be anything new.”

“I can tell there are things you’re struggling with, and something to do with the AI, but I don’t know the details,” Lavender said.

_Might as well go from the beginning, I guess…_ Hatchet sighed again, tiredly. “I… You and Peppermint were learning shit at those places, right? But I… wasn’t.” She took in a breath, steadying herself before she continued, Lavender watching her patiently. Putting it all into words, even if avoiding the worst of it, it all still brought that sick feeling so strongly to her stomach. “I… I don’t know. Maybe that thing wanted to…” _Check we lab rats would be able to have kids at all._ She felt a lump forming in her throat, stopping the words she was trying to say. There were tears in her eyes suddenly, and she couldn’t continue. Even trying to talk about it indirectly, even _acknowledging_ it was summoning that fear, shaking her through, cold and terrified like she was back there in the midst of it. She tried to subdue herself but couldn’t, sobs making their way out as she curled in on herself slightly.

Lavender looked up at her, shocked, her expression quickly softening to concern. “Hey… deep breaths, okay? Try and slow it down. Breathe in nice and slow, okay?”

Hatchet tried, her first attempt interrupted by a hiccup dragging out another sob, but she tried again and managed to pull in a deep breath.

“Good, now hold that in for a few seconds,” Lavender said gently. “And now breathe out, slow as you can. Keep breathing out… There. Keep doing breaths like that.”

Hatchet followed her instruction, doing her best to override the sobs and breathe slowly, in and out, as Lavender continued.

“When you breathe long and slow like that, it makes your body calm down,” she explained. “When you get afraid, the body goes into a fight or flight state and part of that is increasing heart rates and breathing rate, but if you do the opposite you can convince it to _not_ do that, basically. Breathing really slowly and with the breath out being longer than breathing in, that helps slow down the heart rates and stop the fear reaction.”

Hatchet shuddered slightly, but kept breathing as she’d been told, and it did seem to be slowly helping. She wiped at her eyes as she continued, concentrating on that until she felt like she could speak up again, her voice frail and wobbly. “I… I don’t think I can talk about it,” she said, sniffing slightly before correcting it into a longer breath.

“Yeah,” Lavender agreed. “That definitely looked like a panic response…”

Hatchet paused, shaking her head slightly as she went back to what they had been talking about before. The question she hadn’t yet answered properly, why she was angry at _him._ Those simmering feelings bubbled up again, and she clung to them. Better that than the fear.

“He… he was part of all that,” she muttered, growling weakly. “Not… not directly… But that _thing_ used _him_ for it.”

“Hatchet…” She felt Lavender place a hand gently on her arm. “You know he wasn’t the one who did any of it though, right?”

Hatchet clenched her fists tighter, digging her nails into the palms of her hands. “…I know. I know that. But it doesn’t stop me being angry.” She shook her head slightly, sniffing as she drew in a shaky breath to try and calm herself. “I… I’m not going to go chasing after him or anything. But it doesn’t change who he is. He was part of all of it. I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“I…” Lavender began, then paused and shook her head. “Mmh… nevermind.” She looked ahead to where Nattie was, crouching down looking at something in the grass ahead of them. “You asked what I knew about her, so… does she fit into this somewhere?”

Hatchet nodded weakly. That lump was coming back quickly, threatening to silence her. There was only one way to answer that question succinctly, and with any luck Lavender would be able to piece together the rest on her own. Hatchet’s voice came out weak, barely more than a whisper, but come out it did. “…She’s my daughter.”

Lavender’s eyes widened quickly. “Your…? You mean…” It was easy to see the gears going in her head, her following words coming out as hushed as Hatchet’s. “…Yours and Henry’s?”

Hatchet snarled, vivid anger quickly rising, overriding everything else. “He can _stay the hell away from her_ ,” she spat, her voice still wobbling but her tone clearly venomous.

Lavender jumped slightly at the sudden hostility, raising her hands defensively. “S-sorry,” she said. “I… I mean… He probably doesn’t know, I mean, he's never mentioned anything like that... and even if he did, isn’t really in any state for… trying to get involved,” she reasoned.

“He can fuck right off,” Hatchet growled, looking adamantly ahead of her. Catching sight of Nattie, she sighed, breathing away some of the anger as her attention went elsewhere, misery rising once more. “But… that’s not what matters now, though. I just- I- I want to be there for her. I really do. But I look at her, and I’m back there all over again. I just want to be able to _actually fucking care_ for my own child but I _can’t._ I can’t do it.” Hatchet held back the sob threatening to run through her, wiping at her eyes again.

“Hatchet…” Lavender said quietly again, hesitating for a moment, then stood in front of her, taking both of her hands in her own as she looked up at Hatchet with a sincere expression. “I… this is a little off topic, but… I hope you realise how amazing that is. You never wanted a kid and the whole thing was clearly pretty traumatic for you but you still care about her? I think a lot of people in your position would resent her, blame her for it, refuse to have anything to do with her. But instead you want the best for her.”

“What?” Hatchet blinked, furrowing her brow. “People like that are assholes. And I _did_ want nothing to do with her, at first. But it’s not her fault. None of it is her fault, she doesn’t deserve to suffer any more for it.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that… Saying people like that are bad or anything. It’s… pretty normal to want to stay away from things involved in what hurt you… I think victims have every right to try and take care of themselves, and if that means putting themselves first, then they should do so. Though… within reason…” Lavender paused briefly then, but not for long. “The whole process hurt you so much, but you’re still choosing to put her above that. That’s… incredibly selfless. I don’t think you should feel like you’re obligated to or anything, but the fact that you’re doing that without even _considering_ otherwise…” Lavender looked up at her so meaningfully as she spoke, offering a gentle, sincere smile. “That’s really incredible, Hatchet. _You’re_ pretty incredible.”

Hatchet paused, eventually looking aside uncertainly. That didn’t seem right. Her, selfless? That didn’t add up. She pulled her hands free, looking out for where Nattie was, spotting her beneath a tree and walking towards her. Lavender let her pull away, walking beside her.

“With regards to Nattie, and Henry, what you need to do is separate them from the trauma,” she said. “Which sounds easy when you just put it in a sentence like that, but of course it’s… not… But if you can remove the association, then being around them won’t be a problem for you.”

“Which I would do, how? She’s the direct result of all of it,” Hatchet said, sighing.

“Well, with Nattie at least you’ve already taken the first step, since you know it wasn’t her fault and don’t blame her for it or anything,” Lavender said. “Maybe for now it might be worth trying to make some memories with her, so when you see her you can redivert your thoughts there, instead. Find a way for her to remind you of something positive instead of something negative. And… work on getting that far with Henry, too.”

Hatchet took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, evening it and trying to maintain a neutral composure. She looked over to Nattie again, and immediately felt a spike of worry as she saw her climbing the tree, clambering up its low branches. There was a fair bit of distance between them so she superjumped to close it quickly, landing by its roots as Nattie reached for another branch.

“Be careful in the tree, okay?” Hatchet said to her as she pulled herself up higher, having to step on a smaller nub sticking out of the trunk to get onto it. “If you slip you might fall and hurt yourself.”

“It’s okay!” Nattie said confidently. “There are lots of branches.”

Hatchet frowned uncertainly, keeping an eye on her as she sat on the thick bough. She tried to grab another, but it was just barely out of her reach. “Aww…” Disappointed, she stayed there for a while, looking out over the grassy gardens of the park from her perch. Hatchet watched carefully, just in case.

After a while she seemed to get bored of the tree, looking back down. Uncertainty crossed her face as she realised going down would mean having to drop from her current seat to the next. She tried to reach out to it with her leg from where she sat, but it was further than anticipated.

“Can you get down?” Hatchet asked, walking over to stand beneath her.

“I…” Nattie tried to stretch out to the branch below, shifting to lie on her belly over the current one to let her legs dangle further, but it wasn’t quite enough. The nub she’d stepped on previously wouldn’t provide enough purchase for balance. “I’m stuck,” she said, her voice wavering slightly.

Hatchet reached up to her. She wasn’t too high up, low enough that Hatchet could reach her feet, and placed a hand on her leg. “It’s okay. If you try and hang off the branch, I can get you down, and if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

“Um… Okay…” Nattie paused, looking timidly down at the ground before shifting her gaze to Hatchet, then slowly maneuvering herself around the branch to lower herself down. Hatchet waited with her arms up, keeping her hands on Nattie so she would know she was there. She was almost low enough for Hatchet to reach her torso when she slipped, letting out a frightened yelp, but Hatchet quickly caught her, holding her close.

“There we go. I’ve got you,” Hatchet said, relieved. She hadn’t voiced it as Nattie had, but had certainly felt a rapid surge of fear when she’d slipped.

Nattie held onto her tightly, and Hatchet could feel her hearts going fast, slowly going back to their usual pace.

“You alright?” Hatchet asked.

“I’m okay,” Nattie said, though her voice shook slightly, and she didn’t let go. Hatchet shifted her hold to bring one hand up to her head, carrying her away from the tree to meet Lavender.

“Everything alright?” Lavender asked.

“She got stuck in the tree,” Hatchet replied, patting Nattie’s head. “Just a little shaken up.”

“Ahhh.” Lavender nodded sagely. “Those tricky tree branches can be quite deceptive. It always seems so easy getting up, but then coming back down, suddenly they’ve stretched apart!”

“Do they do that?” Nattie asked, frowning suspiciously.

“It’s hard to tell. I’ve never _seen_ them move, but getting back down to the ground always seems tougher than going up,” Lavender replied. “So if you can only just about get onto a branch, it’s better not to. When it comes to getting down, you might not be able to.”

“Hmm…” Nattie hummed suspiciously. “Sneaky trees…” She wriggled slightly, loosening her hold on Hatchet, so Hatchet put her down. Once on her own two feet, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a pebble. “Look! This stone is all round and smooth.”

“So it is!” Lavender said, reaching out. “Can I hold it?”

“Mm-hmm!” Nattie dropped the pebble in her hand, and Lavender held it up, inspecting it closely as if it were a precious gemstone.

“It _is_ very round. I wonder why?” She handed it back to Nattie, who held it up for Hatchet to take. “Maybe Peppermint would know.”

“Peppermint knows lots of things,” Nattie agreed with a nod, as Hatchet looked over the pebble. It was just… a pebble. Sure, it wasn’t often you’d see one this smooth outside of a beach, but it was still just a pebble to her. Pebbles were just like that, weren’t they? Well, if Nattie liked it, then whatever. Hatchet returned it to her, and she put it back in her pocket.

Nattie wandered away again, and they continued ambling around the park. She would occasionally run back to them with something she’d found, a pretty leaf or another smooth pebble or the like. They passed some people walking a dogfish, a larger breed that stood taller than Nattie, but it was well trained and friendly. Nattie initially clung to Hatchet’s side but when Lavender spoke to the owners and approached without fear, Nattie perked up, moving to join her. Hatchet stood close and kept an eye out while Lavender showed her to offer her hand out for it to sniff and the owners let her pet it before they moved on. They spent a fair amount of time at the park before Nattie began to grow tired, walking along at their sides instead of going to explore.

“I’m hungry,” she said.

“Shall we go home, then?” Lavender asked.

“Is there any food here?” Nattie asked.

“No. We’ll have to wait until we get home,” Lavender replied. “It isn’t too far.”

“But I’m hungry _now…_ ” Nattie complained.

Hatchet rummaged in her pocket for a snack, pulling out an oat bar and unwrapping it. “Here.”

Nattie took it quickly, not hesitating to bite into it.

“What do you say to Hatchet?” Lavender prompted her.

“Fank ‘oo!” Nattie said, smiling through a mouthful of the snack bar.

Hatchet huffed, smiling slightly herself and patting Nattie’s head. Reaching the entrance to the park, Lavender turned to her. “Which way are you headed?”

“The bank, so down that way,” Hatchet said, gesturing to one of the side roads. It was probably a lesser known route, passing through areas of housing, but they were still in the area of the city she was most familiar with, and she knew the shortcuts.

“Alright. We’re headed home, so guess we’ll see you around,” Lavender said, smiling slightly. “It was nice seeing you. Or… seeing you doing a bit better, and getting to talk.”

Hatchet’s eyebrow twitched up at the comment. _I’m not sure about **better** , but sure…_ “Yeah. See you around.”

Nattie wrapped her arms around Hatchet, hugging as tightly as she could. Hatchet placed a hand on her back, patting her. “Will you come see us again?” Nattie asked.

“Sure I will,” Hatchet said, ruffling her hair slightly. “You’ll see me again soon enough.”

“Okay.” That seemed to be enough for Nattie to let go, and she waved as Lavender began walking in the other direction. “Bye, Hatchet!”

Hatchet waved back at her before turning to go her own way, letting out a sigh. That hadn’t been _too_ bad… After Nattie’s struggle with the tree, she’d ended up worrying about if anything else might happen, and her pervading vigilance afterwards seemed to have stopped anything else from coming to the forefront of her mind. Maybe talking things out a little with Lavender had already helped her at least a little bit.

Thinking over Nattie’s reaction when they’d first seen her and just then when they parted ways, though… It seemed Nattie really _had_ gotten attached to her. The thought that she _wanted_ to be with Hatchet brought up a rush of emotions, and Hatchet found herself with tears rising in her eyes again. She shook her head, wiping them away on her sleeve. If Lavender thought the best thing to do was try and associate her with more positive things, well… She could already start with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that we are now halfway through the story... and also past the majority of the roughest stuff, the second half is definitely a lot less heavy. things aren't all sunshine n rainbows by any means, but yea the worst is past now   
> comments n kudos always appreciated!


	18. No harm, no foul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some symptoms of depression this chapter

It had been creeping up on her, lately. Hatchet awoke on her beanbag at the dump blearily, the remnants of another nightmare riding through her mind, but the fear and adrenaline were dulled slightly, fading away to leave only that hollow ache that had settled in her. No matter what she did, where she went, it remained, like a raw crevice carved into her that nothing could fill. She found that eating had become more of a struggle than ever, and her lack of appetite left her with little energy.

Lying there on the beanbag, she didn’t want to move. If she was barely managing to eat, did she really need to get more money for food anyway…? Tired and lethargic, she didn’t get up, curled up in morose silence.

She wasn’t sure how long had passed when her phone went off. Pulling it out of her pocket, the screen displayed an unknown number, and she frowned slightly at it as she answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is that Hatchet?”

Hatchet furrowed her brow slightly at the voice she didn’t recognise, wondering who in hell could have gotten her number. “That’s me,” she said guardedly.

“Hey, it’s Sandra. We’ve got all the paperwork and whatnot ready from HR, so I was wondering when you’d be available to start.”

 _Oh._ Of course – there wasn’t anyone else who had her number, aside from Marina. Hatchet shifted, sitting up. “Uh, right. Thanks. I can start any time, really.”

“Great! How about tomorrow?”

Hatchet’s eyebrow twitched up slightly. _That’s… quick._ “Yeah. I can do tomorrow.” _The sooner the better._

“Fab! Come on over to the studio for 8 am, and if you could bring some ID and bank details we can try and get all the boring stuff out the way quickly.”

“Right, can do,” Hatchet said, pausing slightly as she thought. “Is there a front door I should come to, or… Before Marina let me in through the side.”

“Oh, yeah, no, if you go around the other side of the building to the square there’s a door with a buzzer on it so someone’ll let you in there, if it’s anyone you don’t know just let ‘em know you’re the new runner and it’ll be fine,” Sandra explained.

“Right,” Hatchet repeated. “8 am tomorrow then.”

“Yup! See you then!”

The call ended abruptly, and Hatchet took the phone from her ear, checking the time. Apparently it was already late in the morning, approaching midday. She must have been just lying there for quite a while. After having moved, even if only slightly, she felt her hunger rising. Just the thought of having to deal with that brought her mood down slightly, but she knew she needed to feed herself properly if she was going to be starting work tomorrow.

Groaning slightly, she dragged herself up, standing and moving out from under the old vehicle housing her for now. There were snacks in her pockets, but she didn’t feel like eating them. At this point she felt sick as soon as she even just started chewing, and anything she tried to eat felt wrong in her mouth, as if she were trying to consume something inedible. Maybe if she had anything that didn’t really need chewing she could force it down before her body could complain, but as it was, she was struggling.

Maybe if she picked up some softer varieties of fruit they would go down more easily than her snack bars. Making her way out of the dump, she felt a twinge of nerves run through her on her way to the market. She’d avoided going there for a while, not having seen Phoebe since she’d been at her flat – since she’d told her to talk to Peppermint. Phoebe had said she’d do it, would she have done so by now?

As she walked she set an alarm on her phone for the next morning. She was fairly sure she’d wake up early enough regardless, but it was better to have a reminder. Her phone was low on battery so she’d have to stop by the library and charge it at some point, and she’d have to ask Peppermint if there had been anything for her from the bank, too. Things to do.

Nervous as she arrived at the market, she dragged her feet somewhat on the way to Phoebe’s stand, keeping her gaze low as she approached. It wasn’t long before she heard Phoebe speak as she noticed her though.

“’Atchet. Been a while,” Phoebe said. “You doin’ alright?”

Hatchet looked up uncertainly, but Phoebe’s gaze was much the same as ever. Hatchet didn’t really want to answer the question, glancing aside. “…Hey.”

“Doesn’t sound promisin’,” Phoebe remarked, shifting aside slightly from where she leaned on the table and patting it beside her in invitation. Hatchet paused, unsure, but went to sit with her nonetheless, picking up a banana and a kiwi as she went.

“If ya wanna talk, I’m ‘ere,” Phoebe said earnestly. “Or if not, an’ ya jus’ wanna be ‘ere instead ‘f on yer own, that’s fine too. If ya need somethin’ though, ya gotta tell me what it is. I can’t ‘elp ya if I don’t know ‘ow.”

This was… the same as before. Phoebe’s behaviour hadn’t changed at all, her attitude towards Hatchet identical to previously. Hatchet swallowed nervously, the question on her mind reluctant to come out. “…Did you… talk to Peppermint yet?”

Phoebe blinked, her head tilting ever so slightly as her expression shifted somewhat, more appraising. “…Yeah. ‘S kind ‘f a lot ta take in…”

Hatchet looked down at the floor, ears drooping miserably. _This was a mistake. I never should have said anything._ “…I get it. It’s not exactly believable…”

“Eh? Nah, it’s not that.” Phoebe paused, frowning slightly as she thought. “I mean… I guess, sort ‘f, yeah. But ‘s not like I _don’t_ believe it. It makes sense, ‘cause I’d never seen anyone like ya before, but workin’ the market means usually I get ta see a bit of everyone. An’… What Pep said ya’ve been through… Makes perfect sense why ya’ve acted the way ya ‘ave before. So… Even if it’s pretty out there, there’s no reason fer me _not_ ta believe it.”

Hatchet’s eyes remained lowered as she digested what she’d heard, slowly dragging her gaze up to meet Phoebe’s, seeing the sincerity on her face. “So… what do you know…?” Maybe she just hadn’t heard everything, didn’t know the full story.

“Uh…” Phoebe looked ahead as she thought, scratching her head. “You an’ Pep were some kinda experiments created artificially, an’ the AI thing responsible is… it put ya through some real awful stuff. An’ she said about ‘ow ya met from tryin’a destroy it an’ ya saved ‘er n ‘er pal’s lives.”

 _Really? That part is what she brought up?_ With everything else that had happened that day, breaking open that blender had seemed a fairly minor event compared, and wasn’t exactly what stuck out in her mind when she thought back. She supposed from Peppermint and Badger’s perspective it would’ve been more significant, if they were about to die and all.

Phoebe paused briefly, letting out a breath she’d been holding before she spoke again. “An’… She told me about ‘ow ya ‘ave a kid an’ all ‘cause of that AI…” She trailed off, watching Hatchet carefully. “An’ about ‘ow yer tryin’a be good with ‘er even though it’s ‘ard fer ya.”

That was so like Peppermint. Of course that huge sap would spin it to put her in a positive light, hiding all her wrongs. Yet, instead of exasperation, Hatchet couldn’t quite place the feelings that rose in her, pricking her eyes with tears. She felt so unsure of herself in that moment, so afraid of what might happen if Phoebe was informed in an unbiased light, or even just thought of what she did seem to know in a critical manner.

“’Atchet.”

Somewhere along the lines she’d ended up staring at the floor again, but Phoebe spoke clearly, commanding her attention. When she looked up, Phoebe’s expression was somewhat stern, and she continued in that same strict tone.

“Talk ta me.”

Hatchet stared at her in mild disbelief, frowning slightly. She could feel herself getting defensive, a growl twitching around her lips, but she didn’t get a chance to say anything before Phoebe spoke up again.

“Every time yer ‘urtin’, I can’t do anythin’, cause ya don’t talk ta me. I don’t know what yer thinkin’. An’ it feels like ‘s just goin’ in circles. I wanna ‘elp ya, ‘Atchet, I really do, but ya ‘ave ta give me a startin’ point.”

Hatchet glared aside, feeling her eyebrows quivering slightly. She wasn’t _good_ at this. Why couldn’t people just leave her alone?

_I **can’t** be alone anymore. _

She had recognised it before and she recalled that fact again now. She knew she couldn’t, especially in light of her state in the last few days. She needed the help that Phoebe was trying so hard to offer, and it was on her to accept it. But how could she, when it felt like a farce? There was something Phoebe hadn’t mentioned still, and if she didn’t know the whole truth, that would hang over her, casting a shadow on whatever she tried to offer. Hatchet felt the tears that had risen begin to spill out as the uncertain fear spiked again.

“’Atchet,” Phoebe repeated, though her tone had changed now, no longer forceful, instead pleading. She reached down and gently placed her hand on Hatchet’s. “Talk ta me.”

Hatchet didn’t move away, turning towards her ever so slightly. She couldn’t form the words, couldn’t push them out. She was still for a moment, but knew she had to do something to show she had listened, show she was _trying_. Hesitant and slow, she gingerly leaned against Phoebe, resting her head on Phoebe’s shoulder. “I… I’m not good at this.”

“Ya don’t ‘ave ta be,” Phoebe said gently, slowly wrapping one arm around and tentatively leaving her hand on Hatchet’s shoulder, waiting cautiously for Hatchet’s reaction before letting it rest there.

Hatchet was quiet for a moment, drawing in a deep breath as she tried to force through the block and speak the words. They caught in her throat, sticking there. “I…” There was a lump forming there now, making speech even harder. She _did_ need to say it though, to actually _communicate_. That was just… so… difficult… especially with the fear dragging her back. Especially with how admitting what the problem was made her feel so small and frail. She was so used to always having nothing and no-one, but now she had people she could rely on, and the thought of losing that… even just the possibility hurt. Struggling to get anything through, she sat there, silent.

Phoebe let out a quiet sigh, gently rubbing her shoulder. “I get this is ‘ard fer ya an’ all… I jus’ wanna be able ta ‘elp. But I need ta know ‘ow ta do that.”

Fearful, unsure, Hatchet felt lost, directionless. She needed an anchor, and she knew that could be Phoebe, if she could fight through this and be honest, if Phoebe chose to stay with her. _If_.

“…Don’t leave me,” Hatchet uttered quietly, pleading.

“Not goin’ anywhere,” Phoebe said. “Why would I?”

New tears that had risen in Hatchet’s eyes broke free now, falling down her cheek and onto Phoebe’s shoulder. “I… I’ve done some terrible things.”

“…Is this what ya mentioned before, about… not ‘avin’ any good options?”

Only partially. Yes, there was that, that old decision that had haunted her for years, but she couldn’t say the same of her most recent mistake. That… That was on her, fully and completely. That question still gave her somewhere to start, though.

“I left her behind,” Hatchet whispered, sniffling slightly. “I _left her there_ with that _thing._ I _knew_ it was a monster and I… I still…”

“’Atchet…” Phoebe patted her shoulder, shuffling a little closer to her. “I don’t reckon anyone could blame ya fer that… An’ she’s alright, isn’t she? She seemed fine when ya ‘ad ‘er that time before…”

Hatchet paused quietly for a moment, thinking. “…It doesn’t _seem_ like it did anything to her yet…” Nattie had even wanted to go back there at one time, after all. She wouldn’t want that if it had hurt her, right? “But it’s not like that makes it any better. What if we hadn’t found her? If I never went back? She could’ve been put through some- some horrific bullshit or other- and it would be _my fault._ Because _I left her there._ ”

“But that ain’t the case,” Phoebe said gently. “An’ it never will be. She ain’t there now, an’ she’s jus’ fine, an’ I’d guess ya’d never let ‘er back in that AI thing’s ‘ands again.”

Hatchet let out a sharp growl at the thought of that. “ _Never_ ,” she spat.

“An’ on top ‘f that, yer goin’ around shuttin’ down its places an’ rescuin’ the others like you, aren’tcha?” Phoebe said. “Goin’ back ta face somethin’ like that an’ puttin’ yerself at risk… That ain’t just good, that’s downright ‘eroic, y’know.”

Hatchet sighed. “I… that’s… that’s just me looking for revenge,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I hate that thing. I can’t fucking kill it but I can at least wipe it off the planet.”

“…Aight, fine, I’ll admit that ain’t exactly the best of reasoning fer it,” Phoebe said evenly. “But I still reckon yer better than ya give yerself credit for. If ya were as awful as ya seem ta think ya are, ya wouldn’t’ve ‘elped Peppermint an’ ‘er pal. Last I checked yer not a fan of people, ya could easily’ve left ‘em if ya really wanted no-one around. An’ still tryin’a be good with the kid. Ya could easily jus’ say nah, ya never wanted that, so ya won’t ‘ave anythin’ ta do with ‘er, but yer not, ‘cause ya want better for ‘er.”

“ _Not_ leaving people to die has got to be the absolute bare minimum,” Hatchet said dismissively. “That hardly counts for anything. And… and this isn’t even getting into… more recent stuff.”

“Cod, ‘Atchet, could ya give yerself a break?” Phoebe said gently. “’S not like ya committed murder or anythin’-”

“I would have.” Hatchet’s brow twitched as fresh tears rose, the fear spiking as she came to admit to her current misdeeds, her voice dropping to a quiet whisper. “If I’d caught up to him, he’d be dead.”

Phoebe seemed shocked into silence, saying nothing for a long while, until she finally spoke up with a single word. “…Who…?”

Just thinking of him brought all the anger and hatred up to the surface, and she growled, even as a fearful sob escaped her. “He… That bastard… _Henry,_ ” she spat, baring her fangs.

“What’d ‘e do…?”

Hatchet drew away from her then, her hands clenching into fists as she sat further back on the table, drawing one leg up and looking away. “He… He didn’t _do_ anything,” Hatchet growled, trembling. “I know that, I _know that_ , but I still… He…” She hiccupped slightly, wrapping her arms around herself and gripping her elbows tightly, digging into the skin. “It was all _that fucking AI._ But it was _him_ that it used. He’s her fucking father and he probably doesn’t even have a fucking clue.” Had he and Nattie even met? She wasn’t sure, but she hoped not. He could stay the hell away from Hatchet, and that meant Nattie too if she was trying to be there for her.

Phoebe was silent. Even she couldn’t come up with any reasonable justification for that. There wasn’t one. Hatchet kept her glare aside, trembling slightly. She felt cold as she withdrew, awaiting the inevitable change in the way Phoebe viewed her, the loss of a friend. “…Now you know. That’s the kind of person I am,” she muttered darkly.

There was quiet for a moment, until Hatchet heard a stifled snort. She looked over to Phoebe, glaring as she saw her looking like she was trying to hide amusement.

“Sorry,” Phoebe said quickly. “I know this totally ain’t the time, but… That was just. Prime edge,” she said biting down on the smile. She shook her head, breathing in deeply and letting it out. “Aight. In that case… If that’s how it is… Then I ‘ope ya realise jus’ ‘ow lucky ya are.”

Hatchet’s brow quickly furrowed, confusion spreading on her face. “What?”

“These’re the things yer most ‘ung up on, right? Jus’ those two?” Phoebe asked.

“ _’Just’_? They’re hardly minor,” Hatchet growled.

“No. Nah, they ain’t,” Phoebe agreed. “But neither of ‘em actually did anythin’, not really. The kid’s jus’ fine, an’ the guy got away from ya. So… Maybe ‘s some kinda providence, or fate, I dunno if ya believe in any ‘f that, but for whatever reason, both these mistakes ‘f yers… Ya got off scot-free.”

Hatchet frowned. “And? What, do you want to say that means it doesn’t matter?”

“I ain’t takin’ it lightly, ‘Atchet,” Phoebe assured her, giving her a solemn look. “What I’m sayin’ is ya get a chance to learn from ‘em an’ move forward without that much ‘arm bein’ done.” 

Hatchet stared at her incredulously, unable to find any words. It sure sounded like she was taking it pretty lightly.

“Listen. I said before, didn’t I? ‘S long as yer tryin’ ta be better today than ya were yesterday, then ‘s far as I can see, yer decent,” Phoebe said. “So ya got some ‘eavy mis’aps under yer belt. No-one got ‘urt, in the end, an’ I can see ya already know ya did bad. So take the chance ya’ve been given ‘ere, an’ move forward. Be better. If ya feel remorse that already proves ya can be. An’ while yer doin’ that, ya look at the fact that things were alright even where ya messed up an’ be _damn well grateful_ fer it.”

Hatchet’s frown remained, rooted in disbelief. She couldn’t understand Phoebe’s perspective at all. She was clearly acknowledging what Hatchet had done, and yet – just because by chance it happened to be that things were alright, it just didn’t matter? It was _fine?_ Hatchet couldn’t accept that. Could she…?

“’Ey,” Phoebe said, giving her a stern look. “Are ya listenin’? If ya really think yer so bad, that’d mean yer startin’ at the bottom, an’ it’s a long road ahead ‘f ya ta bein’ proper decent. I’ll be ‘appy ta ‘elp ya, but don’t reckon I’ll go easy.”

“Oh, that’s _bullshit_ , you’ve been softer on me than anyone, except, like, Peppermint,” Hatchet said, the words coming from her without a second thought. Phoebe laughed.

“Maybe so, but only ‘cause yer so ‘ard on yerself that I don’t need ta be,” she said, then taking on a sincere tone. “But seriously, ‘Atchet, I reckon ya got it in ya ta be wonderful, no matter what ya might’ve done. I’ve already seen it. Maybe ya ain't perfect sometimes, an' maybe ya need ta do some work in some places, but doesn't mean yer all awful.”

Looking to Phoebe’s certain expression, the unwavering belief with which she spoke those words, Hatchet found herself without any of her own once again. Could she believe such a thing herself? She wasn’t sure, but found a well of emotion springing up in her. She couldn’t place what it was, but she felt new tears prick at her eyes regardless, looking down. “Why do you think that? …How are you so sure…?”

“’Cause I’ve seen it,” Phoebe reiterated, shifting along the table to close the gap between them. “’Elpin’ me on the stand when ya didn’t need to that time, ‘elpin’ that kid, savin’ Peppermint an’ ‘er pal, goin’ out an’ rescuin’ other people that AI made… Sure, ya may wanna say ya ‘ad poor reasoning fer the last bit, but doesn’t change that yer doin’ good. If yer already doin’ this great when ya think yer doin’ yer worst, then frankly yer best must be pullin’ off miracles.”

Hatchet was silent, but slowly leaned against Phoebe again. Phoebe wrapped one arm around her once more, rubbing her shoulder gently. They sat there quietly for a while, until a customer appeared and Phoebe had to get up. Hatchet sat up once she had moved, letting out a heavy sigh and tiredly rubbing her face. She still had things to do today. But… the thing she’d been dreading most was done – and Phoebe was still here, not just accepting her but supporting her. Believing in her. Hatchet watched her tend to the customer with a slight sense of wonder, amazed. If Phoebe wanted her to be grateful for her blessings, she’d have to be grateful for her, too. She stood as Phoebe walked back over, catching her eye.

“Ya ‘eadin’ off?”

“Yeah. Stuff to do. And… I start at that job tomorrow…” She’d almost forgotten about that, lost in their conversation. After talking to Phoebe she felt significantly better, the apathy and nausea stifled now.

Phoebe smiled. “That so? Good luck. ‘M sure yer gonna be great.”

“Thanks,” Hatchet said, offering a brief smile of her own. “And… Well, I guess, just… thanks in general.”

Phoebe let out a small huff, still smiling. “’S my pleasure. See ya around, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you around.” Picking up some fruit as she left, Hatchet went on her way, out of the market and towards the city centre. She headed straight to Ammo Knights, eating as she walked. Going into the shop, it didn’t take long to see Peppermint, along with another familiar face. Badger chatted cheerfully to Peppermint as she worked on a dynamo roller, leaning against the wall. They said something that made her laugh, and Hatchet rolled her eyes slightly as she approached. _Wonder if they’re ‘official’ yet._

“Hey.”

Peppermint looked up, still smiling. “Hi, Hatchet.”

Badger watched her uncertainly. “Hey…”

Hatchet rolled her eyes again, ignoring them as she turned to Peppermint. “Anything from the bank yet?”

“There hadn’t been when I left this morning,” Peppermint said, but pulled out her phone. “Post doesn’t get there until after I’ve left for work and all though… I’ll ask Lavender.”

“…I’ll come back later then,” Hatchet muttered, moving to leave.

“Wait,” Peppermint said. “Can I have your number? That way I could just text you if it’s there…”

Hatchet blinked slightly, then reached for her phone. “…Sure.” She pulled up her number on the screen for Peppermint to see.

“Uhh, there was somethin’ else, too…” Badger started quietly. Hatchet stared down at them, impatient when they trailed off. Badger met her gaze, taking a moment to speak up again. “The others ‘n everyone were wonderin’ if when you get a place of your own if someone could stay with you. The more people we find, the more we have to home, ‘n all…”

“Mm,” Peppermint agreed. “I’ve already got Lavender with me, and my flat’s only really meant for one person, I think… and Eight’s place is full too…”

“…Like who?” Hatchet asked tentatively. She definitely wasn’t ready to have Nattie around all the time, and they couldn’t be stupid enough to suggest Henry, right?

“There’s that new person,” Peppermint said. “Um… They don’t have a name yet, I don’t think… but they also don’t speak.”

Hatchet blinked. “…They’re mute?” That would explain why they’d been completely silent on the way out of the test centre before.

“Mm-hmm,” Peppermint said.

 _Well, I guess they can’t annoy me with talking too much…_ Though… The test centre they’d come from had been the one where things went awry. “…Are they going to _want_ to live with me?” Hatchet asked, eyes narrowed.

“I… don’t know?” Peppermint offered uncertainly, as Badger pulled a face and looked away as if they were trying to hide a smirk. Hatchet glared at them.

“…No point getting ahead of ourselves now,” she huffed. “Even if I start work tomorrow, I won’t get paid right away, and I’ll have to actually find a place…”

“I can help with that,” Peppermint said quickly. “I… well, I only looked around one flat before… But I remember what it was like.”

“Didn’t One ‘n Two help you out?” Badger asked.

“Mm, yeah. They… did most of it, really,” Peppermint admitted.

Hatchet shook her head slightly, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Keep your nose out, I can handle it fine myself. It’ll be a while before I can get a place anyway, since I doubt whatever I get paid for the rest of this month will be enough for a deposit, and in the meantime…” She furrowed her brow, groaning slightly to herself. “…In the meantime fine, let me actually meet this newbie and if they’re not too annoying then whatever, they can tag in too.”

Peppermint smiled up from where she sat. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Hatchet muttered, turning away. “If there’s nothing more, I’m done here.”

“Okay. See you around,” Peppermint said, waving slightly.

Hatchet left quickly, not looking to see if the pipsqueak made any farewell or not. Heading to the library to charge her phone, she made an effort to remember the way to Peppermint’s flat from when she’d been before, in case her bank details had arrived. If they had, and she went over to pick them up… She wondered if Nattie would be there again.

On the topic of Nattie, she should ask Lavender about the books she’d mentioned before, too, about parenting. She’d have to read through those herself. Once she started at work, presumably she’d have a lot less time in the day, she wouldn’t be able to just burn through it all at once as she had when reading up on things before. She’d find time for it, though. Just one more thing on her list of things to do.

Lots to do, now.


	19. Blasé pressure

Hatchet’s first day at work was fairly busy. She’d ended up able to pick up her bank details from Lavender the day prior, just in time. The start of the morning was mostly spent going through relevant forms and being shown around the building and introduced to everyone, with a little introduction to the work and her hours and the like. With all the names thrown her way in such a short space of time, she still didn’t remember any aside from Marina, Pearl, and Sandra, but in time she’d probably pick up on the rest.

As soon as her tour was over, Sandra’s attention was demanded elsewhere, and she was hastily left on set with little more than a notepad and pen in hand. She felt a little awkward in her new surroundings, but clearly her peers were not nearly as uncertain as her, wasting no time in giving her tasks to do. It ranged from getting everyone’s coffee orders to making calls for people to moving equipment, and all while making sure to stay out of the way of the cameras when they were active. When the end of the working day arrived, Sandra came to check up on her.

“So! How’s your first day? You holding up?” The lionfish wore a toothy grin as she approached, looking around the set.

“She’s a good one, Sandra!” One of the camera workers called over, a lanky lobster whose name Hatchet couldn’t recall. “Doesn’t look run ragged like Andy did after his first day.”

“Made of sturdy stuff, then! Good,” Sandra said cheerfully.

“I’m already used to being on my feet all day, so,” Hatchet said. Who knew that having to spend all day sorting through garbage would actually end up helping? She was well accustomed to having no time to relax. In any case, the lobster’s comment set her at ease – it was reassuring to know she was doing well.

“Hope you’re getting along fine with everyone. If you want to get to know ‘em more, they always go out for drinks on payday, I’m sure they’d be happy to have you along,” Sandra said. “Oh, and that’s on the 28th of every month, or if the 28th falls on a weekend it’ll be the Friday before, so you’ll get your first paycheck in this week if HR sorts out the paperwork quickly. Though it’ll only be for the days you’ve worked, so it won’t be much this time around, but, even so!”

_This week?_ Having never had need to pay attention to dates, Hatchet had no clue what they were on, but looking at her phone told her it was the 24th. It would be so soon that she had pay? More money than just the pocket change she’d always had to scrounge up? Only a week’s worth of pay probably wouldn’t give her enough for a deposit so house-hunting would have to wait, but… She would at least be able to afford proper food.

Turning her thoughts back to the rest of what Sandra had said, she deliberated briefly. She wasn’t really interested in going out with a rowdy group. “I don’t drink,” she said. Her only experience with alcohol was inebriated creeps stalking her through the streets at night, and it was more than enough to put her off the thought of drinking herself. She still remembered the stink of one she’d left passed out in a gutter - she'd had to resort to her fists when growls weren’t enough to dissuade him.

“Oh, well, neither do the younger lot who aren’t of drinking age yet, some of them still go out just to enjoy the company,” Sandra said absentmindedly, flicking through a folder she had in her hand and pulling out a plain plastic card. “It’s up to you though. In any case, I got you a card for the building, so now you won’t need to wait for anyone to let you in.”

“Oh, thanks,” Hatchet said, taking it and slipping it into her pocket. “Am I good to go, then…?”

“Yep, go right ahead,” Sandra said. “As soon as you’ve been here for your hours, don’t feel like you have to stick around. Of course, we won’t _discourage_ enthusiastic workers,” she added with a cheeky grin. “But make sure to fill in overtime forms if you do any. Though on that note, if you want to make friends quickly, there’s no-one who doesn’t appreciate a helping hand if their work’s running over…”

Hatchet blinked uncertainly. “…Right…” Maybe when she was more accustomed to her role here she could do that. For now she was quite content to be done for the day, though, so headed for the door.

“See ya tomorrow then!” Sandra called after her, and a few others in the room offered a murmured chorus of goodbyes too. Hatchet waved slightly as she walked, heading down the corridor. As she made for the exit, she passed Marina and Pearl, on their way back to the dressing room after the latest news announcement.

“Hey,” Marina greeted, while Pearl just looked somewhat annoyed at having stopped. “On your way home?”

“Mm.” Hatchet nodded slightly.

“Hope your first day went well,” Marina said, smiling.

“You’re still wearing that raggy cape thing even to work?” Pearl asked dubiously.

Hatchet narrowed her eyes. “What of it?”

“It’s not exactly work attire,” Pearl scoffed. “And if you’re lifting ‘n stuff it’s probably a safety hazard if it’s dangling around ready to get caught in things.”

“She’s not wrong,” Marina agreed lightly.

Hatchet looked aside, crossing her arms. “…Don’t have anything else that hides the stain…”

“Stain?” Pearl echoed suspiciously, cocking an eyebrow.

“I don’t exactly have a big wardrobe, alright?” Hatchet growled. “Can’t just toss out a shirt even if I get shot in it. And even if I could get more clothes, it’s not like I have anywhere to keep them.”

“Right…” Marina said as understanding dawned.

“…Then hurry up ‘n find a place,” Pearl muttered.

Hatchet’s growl intensified. “With what money? It’s not like one week’s pay can cover a deposit. I can’t exactly do much until next month at the earliest.”

Quiet fell for a moment, Pearl glaring aside, before she suddenly turned to look up at Hatchet determinedly. “Aight, so _I_ will.”

Hatchet’s eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raising suspiciously. “Why the hell would _you_ help me? You fucking hate me.”

“…Yeah, I don’t exactly like you,” Pearl said lowly, looking elsewhere once more as her fists clenched. “But I _can_ help, so I _will._ Even if I think you suck. I’m not… I don’t wanna be like my parents and ignore people with less than me. And I could afford to do that with my own cash this time, if it’s just the deposit, plus I’ll get that back anyway as long as you don’t wreck the place. And I said I’d give you a chance and see if you can be better anyway, so…”

Hatchet glared down at her, unconvinced. There was a large part of her that wanted to demand to know who ever said she even _wanted_ any help, but… The sooner she got out of that dump, the sooner she could have a place of her own and maybe even be able to offer it to Nattie someday… She couldn’t turn that down. If not for herself, then for Nattie.

“Anyway, ‘s not like it’s only for you anyway,” Pearl added. “Since you said you’d have that new person too. They need a place too.”

Hatchet rolled her eyes. _Yeah, yeah, whatever._ “Fine. I’ll look into it.”

“Good.”

A strange silence fell as they glared at each other, the hostility between them in stark contrast to what they’d just agreed to. Marina laughed.

“So, is this you two getting along then?” she asked as they both stared at her.

“ _No-_ ”

“Don’t count on it-”

They went back to glaring as they spoke over each other, Marina only laughing more as they did so. Hatchet huffed indignantly, striding past them. She was done here. Leaving the studio, she crossed the square to Ammo Knights, finding Peppermint talking to a customer, Badger lingering nearby once more. She waited until the customer was done, leaning against a wall until they left the shop. Peppermint noticed her, coming over once she was free.

“Hi,” she said, smiling slightly.

“Hey.” Hatchet glanced around the shop vaguely as she paused, spotting the crab watching her as warily as he always did. “…So we said about meeting up with the latest lab rat. Any plans on that?”

“Oh. Right,” Peppermint said, blinking slightly as she pulled out her phone. “I’ll ask if they’re free… or when they would be…” She typed up a message to send, then pocketed it again. “I can let you know when I hear back. Was there… anything else or was it just that?”

“Just that,” Hatchet replied, standing away from the wall.

“Hug?” Peppermint asked, holding her arms out.

Hatchet scowled at her, rolling her eyes. Even if she was trying to be nice, it was still annoying. “Make it quick,” she muttered sullenly.

Peppermint’s smile widened broadly, wasting no time in stepping forward and wrapping herself around Hatchet, loosening her hold slightly when given a warning growl. “See, she does let me hug her, a little.”

Hatchet’s eyes narrowed sharply and she pulled away, glaring as Badger stared incredulously. A cheeky grin spread over their face.

“Who are you and what have you done with Hatchet?”

“Shut up, shrimp,” she hissed.

“I guess if anyone was gonna pull that off it would have to be Pep,” they said cheerfully.

“It’s not like I _want_ her cod-damn hugs. She just looks like a kicked puppy if I don’t put up with it,” Hatchet growled, then turning to Peppermint, glowering. “And _you._ Don’t pull that shit just to prove a point or whatever.”

“Awww. I can’t believe you have a soft spot for Pep,” Badger teased.

“Do you want to leave here with your face intact?” Hatchet snapped. “And that’s rich coming from _you,_ as if you aren’t completely head-over-heels for her.”

Badger’s cheeks immediately coloured, flushed blue as they looked aside. Apparently they had nothing to say to that. _Good._ Hatchet made a note to bring that up whenever the pipsqueak was being annoying and needed shutting up. Glancing back at Peppermint, she just looked confused.

“Head over… heels?” she echoed.

_Hmm. I guess she’s not familiar with idioms yet._

“N-never mind it,” Badger mumbled quickly.

One eyebrow perked up. “…Don’t tell me she’s _that_ oblivious.”

“Sh-shut _up_ , Hatchet,” Badger said, but they sounded too sheepish for it to come across as threatening.

“Seriously? That really _is_ rich,” Hatchet said, smirking. “That’s hilarious.”

“What…?” Peppermint still just seemed lost, and Badger maintained a bashful silence.

Hatchet let out a short, barking laugh, turning to leave. “ _Ha._ Well, don’t mind me. You go right ahead being a pair of fools.”

“Oh. Goodbye, then,” Peppermint said, still sounding a little uncertain. “Um, I’ll message you when I know about meeting up with the new person…”

“Alright. Bye,” Hatchet replied, already on her way out. Heading via the shops to pick up some more food with what change she had, she went back to the dump, flopping down on the beanbag for a while. Until she got paid properly, she’d still have to keep scavenging to feed herself for the week… But after the walk to get out here, by the time she found anything worth taking to the scrappers, they’d have already shut. She’d have to find things tonight so tomorrow she could head back and just take it all over immediately.

After a brief rest on the beanbag, she got back up. Hopefully this would be one of the last times she ever had to do this.

* * *

Friday was the day they’d ended up agreeing on for Hatchet to meet up with the newest addition to their group, but that wasn’t what was on Hatchet’s mind as she left work. No, the first place she went to was a bank. It was payday.

Finding an ATM and pulling her card out of her pocket, she went to use it for the first time, somewhat apprehensive. She knew there was a chance of her balance still being just what pocket change she had pulled together to put in it when she opened the account. If HR had been slow to deal with the paperwork and hadn’t put her on the payroll just yet… Entering her details when prompted, she nervously waited for it to load, staring down at the screen, impatient to see the contents of her account.

It wasn’t empty.

Staring down at the number in front of her, it was vastly more than she’d ever had before – yet this was only for a few day’s work. Sure, she knew from what she’d seen looking at houses that it made sense, this wasn’t enough to cover rent and the like, but it was still so _much_ compared to the pitiful amounts she’d scrounged up over the years. She felt an overwhelming relief flood through her, pressing the button to withdraw cash. Stuffing the note it dispensed into her pocket, that alone was more than she’d ever had at once before – and still less than a tenth of what remained in her account. It solidified the knowledge that this was all _real_ – the ID, the job, the prospect of getting a home. A fervent hope that she’d been too afraid to let herself feel was welling up, prompting tears to her eyes.

_No. I am **not** going to cry at a cash machine._ Walking away, she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, drawing in a deep breath. No more rummaging around the dump. No more living on the bare minimum. She could get things that were actually _enjoyable_ to eat. She could get those coffees she only allowed herself on a rare occasion before. Hell, she could even go to an actual _restaurant_ if she wanted. Newbie could come along too, why not?

Pulling herself together, she went over to Ammo Knights. Inside were Peppermint and Lavender, and someone she vaguely recognised as the yellow-haired one that had been at the test centre in the dark. They were taller than her, surpassing even Peppermint’s height, with the same black and blue eyes the rest of them shared and a scar on their cheek. It occurred to her that of all the fully grown lab rats, Hatchet was the shortest, even if she was taller than many inklings. She was in too much of a good mood to be irked by that.

“Hi, Hatchet!” Lavender said as she walked in, waving.

“Hey.”

The newcomer seemed to recognise her, quickly picking up a nervous look once they did. Hatchet held in a sigh. Sure, they were a better choice to stay with her right now than either of Nattie or Henry, but they were still someone who knew nothing of her but a… _less than savoury_ side of her. Patching that up would be annoying.

“…Hey,” she repeated, looking aside. “…Sorry about before.”

They blinked, confused, but maintained a level of uncertainty, anxiously staying close to Lavender.

“Don’t worry about Hatchet,” Lavender reassured them. “That was all just… It’s not something that’ll happen again. Right?”

“…Yeah.” Hatchet glanced towards them uncertainly. “Anyway… You’re mute, right? How do you communicate, you know sign language or anything?”

They looked at her, appraising, shaking their head.

“We try and ask yes or no questions so they can work with that,” Peppermint said.

Hatchet narrowed her eyes at her. “Seriously? That’s it?” She turned back to them. “Can you read and write?”

They nodded.

Hatchet quickly pulled the pocket notebook and pen she’d been given at work out and thrust it towards them. “Did none of you really think to just give them something to write on?” she asked exasperatedly.

They blinked, surprised somewhat, before slowly taking the notebook. Opening it, they glanced through the first few pages, ones Hatchet had already written on with a few details as needed for work. Taking the pen, they wrote in an inconspicuous corner, writing small to take as little space as possible before showing it to her.

‘Won’t you need this?’

Hatchet shook her head. “They have tons in the office at work, I’ll just grab another one. You’ll use it more than I would, anyway.”

They paused for a while, then writing down something else. ‘Thank you.’

Hatchet huffed slightly. “I can’t believe no-one got you one already.”

“Um… They were mostly staying with Eight…” Lavender said awkwardly.

“Quit making excuses, it doesn’t matter now,” Hatchet said tersely. “Anyway. We’re meant to be seeing if we get along or whatever, were there any ideas on what we’re gonna _do,_ or not?”

“Oh… I don’t think so…” Peppermint said quietly. The newcomer nodded uncertainly.

“Fine. I could go for food, if you’re up for that.” They certainly kept her busy at work running around everywhere, and it worked up a fair appetite, leaving her hungry at the end of the day. The newcomer nodded again, and Lavender perked up slightly.

“Oh! If you want to get food, I have some tickets for the Crust Bucket… Eight gave me some, since she has more than she gets through on her own,” she said.

“Are you getting shwaffles?” Peppermint asked, eyes widening slightly as she immediately took a keen interest.

“You’re still at work for another half an hour,” came a chiding voice from one side, and Hatchet looked over to see the crab who owned the store.

“Can I do overtime on Monday instead?”

“Let me check…” Lavender murmured as the crab sighed, pulling out a handful of tickets from one of her pockets. “Mm-hmm, I could get us all some shwaffle. No triple-fried, though.”

“Please?” Peppermint pleaded with the crab. “The charger repair is already done.”

“That’s true enough…” He paused contemplatively for a moment. “Fine. You can go early and stay later on Monday instead. In future you should really have overtime ready _before_ you leave early, though.”

“Thank you!”

“Cod, what’s her deal?” Hatchet muttered as Peppermint rushed for the door, looking back at Lavender expectantly.

“Shwaffles are Pep’s favourite food by far,” Lavender said, giggling slightly at her enthusiasm as they all left the shop and went to the food truck nearby. Lavender offered a small selection of drink tickets, but none appealed to Hatchet, and she had her water bottle with her anyway. Once Lavender knew what everyone wanted she went to queue up, Peppermint following her. Hatchet took a seat at one of the tables dotted around, and the newbie awkwardly went with her, sitting as well. There was a fair queue at the food stand, and Hatchet imagined it would be a while before theirs was ready. _Guess I should make some attempt at conversation…_

“So… How you finding life outside the hell chamber?”

Her company blinked quietly, pausing before writing in the notebook again. ‘It’s okay.’ After showing her that brief message, they quickly pulled it back, tentatively holding the pen over the page before writing more. ‘I never realised people can normally talk. When you showed up before and I met everyone, I was really surprised.’

“When you’re on your own you don’t get to see that kind of thing. Wasn’t until I got to the city that I found out being green is apparently fucking freaky,” Hatchet replied. “Don’t give a shit about the prats who stare at us for it. They’re not worth your time.”

They watched her for a moment, then writing again. ‘They all talk to each other a lot, but not so much to me. Since I can’t talk back, I guess.’

Hatchet huffed derisively. “Idiots. Only because they didn’t give you any way to.”

They paused over the notebook, thinking. They tapped the pen against the page as they did so, seeming to grow impatient as the tempo increased before they quickly scrawled something else out, their writing a little scruffier. ‘There were so many times when they were talking and I wanted to say something, but now I’ve actually got this, I can’t remember what I wanted to say.’

“…At least now you’ll be able to if it comes up again and you remember.”

They looked over at her, studying her with an appraising gaze. They blinked, smiling slightly, then turned back to the previous page, tapping where they’d written on it before. ‘Thank you.’

Hatchet didn’t respond. They shouldn’t have had to go that long without being able to properly make themself heard in the first place. She huffed slightly to herself. “…Too bad your first conversational partner is me of all people. I’m not exactly known for being friendly and talkative.”

‘You did seem kind of rude to the others, then calling them idiots and all. But you’re being nice too.’

“Hardly,” Hatchet snorted.

They looked up quickly, seeing where the others were, at the front of the queue now, before discreetly writing at the bottom of the page. ‘None of the others talked to me this much.’ They quickly turned it over once she had read it, putting it out of sight.

“That’s on them for being stupid.” Hatchet huffed irritably. The thought irked her somewhat. “If they don’t listen or find a way for you to be heard when it was as simple as just giving you a cod-damn notebook…”

Their conversation was cut short as Lavender and Peppermint came back to the table, carrying paper plates with shwaffles to distribute. Hatchet eyed the food placed before her. It looked like it might be more calorific than an entire day’s food on her usual diet. Well, may as well kickstart her new life with decent meals with something over the top like this.

She could easily see that Lavender’s words had been true, if only by how rapidly Peppermint devoured the sugary dish in front of her. Hatchet didn’t have so strong a sweet tooth, taking her time and emptying her water bottle in the process. Lavender and Peppermint both chattered as they ate, Lavender having plenty of stories to tell of her escapades in turf war. She was thinking of what weapon she might like to try out when she could afford more than just the basic splattershot junior, and Peppermint’s knowledge of weapons from the shop allowed her to recommend things based on the sets. Hatchet stayed fairly quiet, feeling no need to talk up, aside from when the newbie wrote something down to share and the others were too caught up in their conversation to notice. They’d been skipped over plenty already, so she made sure it didn’t happen now.

Once they all finished eating, Hatchet stretched, leaning back in the chair. She was already tired of conversation, really, but full from the shwaffle, she found herself lethargic. Disinterested, she wasn’t really paying attention to what they were talking about, looking elsewhere until the newbie ended up tugging at her sleeve. She glanced over, realising the others were all looking at her.

“How did you pick your name?” Lavender asked.

Oh, that was what they were talking about. Made sense, newbie would need to do that at some point, probably sooner rather than later.

“Been a while,” Hatchet muttered. She had picked up the name soon enough after she arrived at the city, if only because she’d realised she’d need one for jobs before finding she couldn’t get one. It had taken very little time after she escaped for her fear towards the AI to become anger, resentment, not long until she set herself on hunting it down. It had seemed fitting to name herself after a weapon, as she fashioned herself into one. There was something that had drawn her to the simplicity of an axe, and then looking into that, the sound of ‘hatchet’ just seemed better than anything else. She didn’t really care to explain all that, though. If anything, she felt a little sheepish about it. She still _liked_ her name, it felt like she had truly made it _hers_ , but there could have been better reasons. Well… As long as she gave herself a name she grew attached to, that was what mattered most, really.

“…Not interested in going into it,” she said quietly.

“Aww. We told ours,” Lavender said.

“I wasn’t listening, too bad,” Hatchet replied. “If you know what you want to focus on in life, work with that.”

“Or just find something you like!” Lavender added.

Newbie looked thoughtfully at the notebook, but wrote nothing.

Hatchet stood then, tired of being around people. “…Reckon I’m done here.”

“Oh, are you going?” Lavender asks.

“I’ve had more than enough conversation for today.” She didn’t exactly willingly spend time around people usually, and she already had to do so far more than usual thanks to work.

“That wasn’t very long…” Peppermint said.

Newbie wrote in the notebook again. ‘Thank you again.’ They paused briefly, looking up at her appraisingly before adding slightly to the notes. ‘I think we got on well…’

Hatchet’s eyebrow raised slightly as she read that, glancing up at them. They offered her a small smile. “…Sure,” she said quietly. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

They waved as she left, Peppermint and Lavender both saying their farewells. Dropping by the library, she filled up her water bottle again on the way home, staying until it closed to charge her phone. Visiting a convenience store, she looked around at the fancier snacks, going over to various things she’d wanted to try but could never afford. She could actually try and make sure she got proper nutrition, too… Her diet had probably been somewhat low in protein for a long time. Leaving the shop with much fuller pockets, she looked forward to trying them once she was less full. Those shwaffles came in generous portions.

Lying down on the beanbag once she arrived, it was the first time she could think of since she left the test centre where she didn’t really need to _do_ anything – not right now, anyway. There were plenty of things that she would have to do later, but nothing right now. No house listings to go through at the library now it was closed, no searching through junk when she had enough money already. For the first in a very long time, she could just… lie back and relax for a bit.

She didn’t really know what to do. She wasn’t used to it. She was still tired from work, but she felt restless nonetheless. Even so, she didn’t want to move. They didn’t go lightly on giving her things to do at the studio, and even if she could keep up, she did find herself worn out. It had led to her sleeping more, the physical exertion demanding more rest, but that was probably a good thing. Even if the nightmares persisted, they didn’t seem to wake her as early.

Lying still on the beanbag, she decided to stay there. She still didn’t quite get what anyone would call a normal amount of sleep, and the more rest she got, the better. Even if it was the weekend tomorrow and she wouldn’t be at work, if she could fight off some of the exhaustion that had become permanent over the last few years, she would – and she’d still have things to do on the weekend, viewings to go to after having looked at some flats. And if she had enough time, and felt up to it… Maybe she’d see about visiting Nattie. 

The evening wore on, and she eventually drifted off.


	20. Getting on track

Hatchet did a lot of spending that weekend. Not too much – she still maintained the majority of the pay she’d been given – but it was a lot by her standards nonetheless. She’d bought some credit for her phone, and after helping Phoebe at the stand decided to go eat at a restaurant for the first time in her life.

Over the course of the weekend she’d been to a few viewings as well – during the week she’d managed to book three of them. She’d calculated what her monthly earnings would be based on what she’d already received, and knew what places she’d be able to afford. She knew bills for other things like utilities existed but wasn’t really sure how much to expect them to be, so made sure she looked at places where rent would still leave her with plenty of her paycheck left for everything else.

Once she’d been to all three of the places, she’d picked the one she liked most, not excessively far from work and a decent place, big enough to comfortably hold her and the newbie. She’d gone to the estate agents’ to deal with the paperwork immediately, staying there to fill out everything she needed to do herself right away. Sadly that wouldn’t finish the process, what with referencing and needing to rely on Pearl – admittedly very reluctantly – for the deposit, but it would at least start it.

As Saturday wore on, she’d wandered by some charity shops, the aforementioned irritating inkling’s words on her mind. If she _could_ get something a little more fitting for work, that would be good… A pair of jeans that weren’t so scuffed and torn, a shirt that would be season appropriate as well as unstained. That wouldn’t be a lot, wouldn’t leave her with too much _stuff_ to manage.

Browsing through what was available, she’d found a maroon button-up shirt that fit her, along with some jeans. They would do just fine. Amongst the miscellaneous bits and bobs in the store she’d found they sold little pouches of dried lavender, and ended up picking one of those up. If she kept her clothes in a bag along with that, hopefully they wouldn’t stink of the dump too much, so got a sturdy canvas bag as well.

Heading back there after her full day, she wondered how long it would be before she could move in to the flat she’d picked. It had been a fully furnished place, so she wouldn’t have to get much after moving in. Honestly, more than anything she was looking forward to having a home that could stay warm – the chilly nights at the dump where getting to her. She’d clearly taken for granted just what having walls could do – the warehouse had still gotten pretty cold, for sure, but in summer it maintained enough warmth that she was fine at night. And a bed… Having one of those would be good too… And cooking equipment. She’d be able to have decent meals _every night_ if she wanted. Things that probably seemed so normal to the majority of people, but would be so significant to her. Things she might be able to have, soon. _Soon…_ Walking around everywhere to all the different flats and being out surrounded by the weekend business of the city centre left her tired, and she fell asleep quickly.

The next morning started with a trip to the camping grounds, Hatchet showering and washing her clothes. The canvas bag was more than big enough to hold all of her clothes, so she took everything, washing as thoroughly as she could. Pulling out the checkered shirt she usually wore in the warmer months, the dull stain on the back continued to persist, no matter what she tried. She had given up on getting it out, at this point. But should she just throw it out, now that she had something else…?

Thinking briefly, she decided against it. She may not wear it to work if she could avoid it, but she’d keep it for when they went up against the AI – if she was going to risk getting hurt again, may as well keep the damage to one shirt instead of spreading it. Wandering back to the city and munching on snacks from her pockets, she wondered when they’d go to face it again. It had been a while since the last time… Finally able to send messages of her own after having gotten credit, she sent a text asking about it to Marina, and adding a note to tell Pearl she’d found a good flat and made an offer. Even if having to rely on her left a scowl on Hatchet’s face.

With such a busy day before, all her chores for the weekend were done now. On her walk, Hatchet already knew what else she wanted to do with her free time, even if it left her nervous. Hanging her clothes up on the makeshift washing line she’d put up at the dump, she flopped on the beanbag for a while, sending another text – this time to Peppermint.

>hey. you have nattie with you?

It took a little while for a response to come back, Hatchet quickly looking back at her phone once it buzzed.

Peppermint: Yeah, she just came back to us for the week.

Peppermint: Do you want to see her?

Hatchet rolled her eyes slightly. _Why else would I be asking?_

>yeah. how about that park I went to with lavender again

Peppermint: Sure. We can be there in an hour?

>k. see you then

She lay back on the beanbag, staring up at the mudguard ceiling. It didn’t take too long to get to the park from here, about twenty minutes. That left her with a decent amount of time to rest after her long walk to and from the campsite. Closing her eyes for the time being, she tried to relax, willing the tiredness to subside. By the time she had to leave it wasn’t fully gone, but enough that getting up and moving wasn’t too much of a nuisance.

Hatchet arrived at the park a little early, electing to lean on the gate as she waited. She had her tennis ball in pocket, and got it out to toss to herself to pass the time. She felt the familiar nausea rising as the time passed, anxiously anticipant.

“Hatchet!”

Once again, the first sign of the others’ arrival was Nattie running over to her. She wore a bright smile as she wrapped her arms around Hatchet’s waist, and her clear joy to see her helped calm Hatchet’s nerves slightly.

“Hey, scamp,” Hatchet said, crouching down to hug her. Nattie gladly adjusted her hold as she did so, quiet for a moment while the others caught up – both Peppermint and Lavender had come.

“You said you didn’t like hugs before,” Nattie said after a while.

“And usually I don’t,” Hatchet replied, rolling her eyes slightly even as a small smile worked its way onto her face despite that. Pausing briefly, she held Nattie just a little bit closer as she continued. “…You’re alright though.”

“Ehe.” Nattie’s smile grew at that, squeezing Hatchet slightly before she let go. Hatchet stood as Peppermint and Lavender caught up.

“Hiya,” Lavender said cheerfully.

“Hey,” Hatchet replied.

“How are you doing?” Peppermint asked.

Hatchet scowled slightly. Such an annoying question. She couldn’t honestly say she was fine, not with the continuing ache that had settled in her ever since she realised just who Nattie was, not with the nausea that rose even now just from being around her. The only positive thing she could offer was the knowledge that things _were_ getting better, even if her own state was still messy.

“…Looked at some flats and made an offer on one, so that’s something.”

“Oh! That’s good,” Peppermint said, smiling. “When I made an offer it wasn’t very long before I could move in. Though Sheldon did say it might be because of Agent Two’s help…”

_Who?_ The unrecognised name caught Hatchet’s attention for a brief moment, but she soon shrugged it off, deciding she didn’t really care.

“Come _oooon_ , let’s _goooo_ ,” Nattie said impatiently, pulling on Hatchet’s arm and walking into the park.

Hatchet let out a quiet huff, smiling slightly as she followed her. “Pretty sure it’s rude to interrupt a conversation,” she said. It was absolutely hypocritical of her to correct anyone on manners, but she’d be damned if she let Nattie end up as terrible as she was.

“You can still talk while you’re walking!”

“True enough.”

Nattie bounded off into the park as soon as the others started walking on the path, Lavender calling to her not to go too far again. Hatchet watched her, joining Peppermint and Lavender in taking a slower pace along the path.

“So… How are you doing _now_?” Peppermint asked. “Being here with her, I mean…”

Hatchet grimaced slightly. Just bringing it up brought her struggles to the forefront of her mind, and a shudder threatened to run through her, but she suppressed it. “…Not much better than any other time. But I’m _not_ leaving.”

“It’s important to take care of yourself, too,” Peppermint said gently.

“Mm-hmm!” Lavender said. “Oh, and-”

Whatever she was about to say was interrupted as Nattie ran back over to them, looking up at Peppermint. “I found a big bug! I don’t know what it is, though. Tell me.”

Peppermint blinked at Nattie’s abrupt words, following as Nattie took her sleeve to show her where it was. Lavender smiled as they went.

“It didn’t take long for her to realise Pep’s the best person to ask anything she wants to know. Whenever she’s been staying with the others she always comes back with questions they weren’t sure about,” she explained.

Hatchet supposed that must mean Peppermint had been given the broadest education, then. Well, the AI had said something about her being a test for learning when she’d spoken to it on the laptop, so that made sense.

“Anyway… I was thinking more about you and her, and you trying to get to being okay around her,” Lavender said thoughtfully. “It’ll be better once you’ve moved in somewhere – so it’s really good you’ve already found a place! – since therapy and stuff works better when the rest of your life is stable. Umm, but also it’s like… Well, I guess it’s like healing any other kind of wound. If you’re healthy and in a position where it’s not gonna get worsened it can heal anyway, but if you’re still being exposed to what caused it or things that worsen it – like in your case, if you have to deal with the AI again, or all the stress that I assume comes with being homeless and all – then it can’t heal easily. So… Therapy will work best once you’re settled down, and ideally once what you all are doing with the AI is finished with. It could still help even before that, but it won’t be quite as effective. But then it also costs money to see someone, so there’s that too…”

Hatchet blinked, thinking through her words. “…So the sooner we get that thing taken care of, the better.”

“…Yes,” Lavender said, though sounded somewhat uneasy. “Or you could drop out of it and leave it to the others…”

Hatchet growled. “Not a chance.”

“…Mm. But that’s only one part of it, anyway.” Lavender looked up to the others, Nattie standing next to a tree that Peppermint had crouched down next to. “Once you do get to a point where you can start looking for it though, I think EMDR would be the best thing? It’s based on rapid eye movement, presumably the same thing the brain is doing in REM sleep. It’s not really fully understood why or how it works since there’s a lot about the brain itself that’s unknown, but there’s more than enough studies and evidence to show that it _does_ work, but the theory is that it’s like manually putting your brain into the process of sorting through information. If you already know what your trauma is, then you can focus on that, and get your brain to separate the facts of the event from the feelings that get all tied up in it. There’s lots of evidence of patients who, after EMDR, were able to talk about their experiences just fine when before they’d really struggled. Though… Most of that is coming from my studies at the test centre and that was based on human stuff, but when I looked into it at the library, there’s evidence for it being the same in inklings ‘n whatnot, too. Then if you do that and can remember things without it being a huge stressor for you then it won’t be a problem to be around Nattie.”

Hatchet listened quietly as Lavender spoke. She really knew a lot about this, huh. The idea of having to actively focus on what she’d been through was far from appealing, but… If it led to having that all dealt with, it would be worth it. “How long does it take?”

“Oh, I guess that depends on session length and frequency?” Lavender paused, thinking. “And there’ll be variation from person to person too… Depends on just how well it works for you. I don’t remember the exact stats I read but I don’t think it was too long…”

Hmm. Well, the sooner the better. If it had a chance of helping her, she’d give it a try, once she could.

“I haven’t looked at it other than just remembering what I learned, if you’re interested we could go to the library and look up if there’s anywhere for it nearby?” Lavender offered.

“…Sure.”

Nattie and Peppermint came back over then, Nattie staring down at something on the end of her arm. She held it up, showing them. “It’s a beetle! It’s really pretty!” It had an iridescent shell, the metallic colours shining under the light.

“I’m not sure what kind of beetle it is, specifically…” Peppermint said.

“It’s not gonna bite her or anything, is it?” Hatchet asked suspiciously.

“No, I don’t think so. Beetles don’t really bite, I don’t think…”

Hatchet watched as Nattie rotated her arm slightly so the light could show off all the various colours of its shell.

“It is super pretty!” Lavender agreed. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Oh. Umm…” Nattie paused thoughtfully. “I’m not- oh!” The beetle had begun moving and fell off into the grass.

“Mister Beetle might want to go back to his tree,” Lavender said.

“Ohh. Maybe he does.” Nattie bent down, looking at the beetle crawl along in the grass. “I don’t think I can pick him up…” The ends of her arms were still undeveloped, globby tentacles rather than hands with fingers.

“Here, I’ll help,” Lavender said, gently picking up the bug. “Do you want to hold him on the way back or shall I?”

“I will!” Nattie gleefully held her arm up for Lavender to put the beetle on again.

“Try to make sure he doesn’t fall off again, hmm? Let’s go home, Mister Beetle,” Lavender said, walking back over to the tree with Nattie.

“She seems right at home with Nattie,” Hatchet noted as they went.

“Mm-hmm,” Peppermint agreed. “I feel like I don’t know what to say to Nattie sometimes but Lavender isn’t like that at all. They get along really well…”

“…That’s good.” Lavender seemed like a good kid. If Nattie had her as a decent role model, that could only be a good thing.

They ambled around the park for a while, Hatchet thinking over Lavender’s recommendations. At one point Hatchet got out the tennis ball again and Nattie soon noticed, the four of them ending up playing catch together. Nattie struggled somewhat with both catching and throwing with her lack of defined digits but was happy to play regardless, putting her all into at least making sure it went in the right direction. After a while, she sat down on the grass.

“I’m tired now,” she announced.

“Shall we go home?” Lavender asked.

“I don’t want to walk…”

“We can sit down for a while and then go home.”

“…Okay.”

Lavender sat down with her, Peppermint and Hatchet soon joining them. Hatchet took a seat next to Nattie, and once she was down Nattie leaned on her, holding her arm. After her busy day before and all the walking so far, Hatchet was quite content to sit herself, and Nattie’s quick show of affection brought a rise of joy in her. She still felt sick, to the point of being weak almost, but that little fluttering of happiness broke through nonetheless, providing some small relief. Hatchet brought the hand not restricted by her arm being clutched at over to pat Nattie’s head, ruffling her hair slightly.

_My daughter…_

Even with the nausea plaguing her, Hatchet felt like she wouldn’t give up that moment for anything. Sure, it would be better if she could experience it without the drawbacks attached, but here, now, Nattie was with her, content and happy. She wanted that to continue. She wanted Nattie to always have that, to never suffer the way she had, and she’d damn well do her very best to make sure it was so. Sitting there with her, she was happy to let this little glimpse of better times stretch out.

“Shall we go home?” Lavender asked. “I think it’s a good time to get lunch.”

“I don’t want to move…” Nattie mumbled. “…But I do want food…”

“We should get lunch,” Peppermint said. “There’s cake at home too…” The glint in her eye as she spoke implied that was more an incentive for herself than for Nattie, but Nattie perked up slightly at it regardless.

“Peppermint makes really nice cakes,” she said, looking up at Hatchet. “You should try some!”

“Is that an invitation?” Hatchet asked, smiling wryly.

“You could come over for lunch if you wanted,” Peppermint said. “I’d be fine with that.”

“Sure! Why not?” Lavender asked.

Hatchet looked over at them, a little uncertain. She hadn’t really expected them to take that seriously. “…Nah, I… Can’t today, but thanks.” The nausea wasn’t exactly helpful for trying to eat, she’d be better off on her own for that.

“Aww…” Nattie was clearly disappointed.

“…We still do need to have lunch though,” Peppermint said, getting up.

“Yeah. Maybe Hatchet can join us another time,” Lavender said as she rose.

“Come on, food’s important,” Hatchet said, awkwardly trying to get up herself around the child attached to her arm. Nattie reluctantly stood, still holding onto her.

“My legs are still tired…” She looked up at Hatchet. “Will you carry me?”

“Eh?” Hatchet blinked, mildly surprised at the request. Well, she had done that before, when they’d gotten out of the warehouse… “Sure.”

Nattie beamed as Hatchet reached down to pick her up. She was big enough that carrying her for too long would be tiring, but given they’d be parting ways at the entrance to the park, Hatchet could manage that much. Nattie hugged her as they walked, resting her head on Hatchet’s shoulder.

Lavender let out a quiet laugh. “You’ll spoil her if you say yes to everything she asks, y’know.”

“It’s only ‘til we get to the gate,” Hatchet pointed out. “It’s not like I’m gonna carry her all the way back to your place.”

“Fair enough,” Lavender said, though retained an amused smile.

Once they got to the gate, Hatchet put Nattie down again, even when she was clearly reluctant to let go, still clinging to Hatchet as long as she could.

“Go on, get back and have lunch,” Hatchet said, patting her head.

“Can we come to the park together next weekend too?” Nattie asked.

“…Sure. I’ll probably be free.”

“Okay, let’s get home,” Lavender said. “Oh, about going to the library, Pep has your number, right? I’ll message you about it.”

_Right, looking up stuff nearby…_ “Sure. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Hatchet!”

Nattie waved as they parted ways, and Hatchet made her way back towards the dump. Shortly after, though, she found herself considering otherwise. _I wonder if Caffeine Lover is open on Sundays…_ She ended up changing course, heading there instead. It wasn’t much, but she could repay a little of Mason’s kindness by giving her some actual business now. Stepping into the coffee shop, she spotted Mason at her laptop in a corner again, and the octoling boy she’d seen with Izzy before was behind the counter. Heading over to him, she wondered if the little coffee shop had many other members of staff or if it was small enough to run with just the three of them.

“Hello! What is it I can get for you?” the octoling asked.

“Latte. And one of those paninis,” Hatchet murmured, rooting for the cash in her pockets. He nodded, naming the price as he set about making the drink. She waited for him to finish it rather than sitting down, uncertainly wandering over to Mason once she had her coffee in hand.

“…Hey,” she said quietly, feeling a little awkward. She wasn’t used to talking to people much still, and it didn’t help that Mason looked old enough that she could probably be her mother.

“’Atchet,” Mason greeted as she looked up. “’Ow’s it goin’?”

“I got that job… So… Thanks for the interview help,” Hatchet said. “Not sure if I’d’ve gotten it if not for you ‘n Phoebe…”

“That so? I’m glad for ya,” Mason said, smiling. “Still ‘elpin’ out Phoebs?”

“Yeah, I was with her yesterday,” Hatchet replied. “She’s been… really helpful to me…”

“Be good ta ‘er in return, won’tcha?” Mason said. “Seems like she’s taken a shine ta ya.”

“Yeah…” Hatchet nodded. “She’s… a good friend.”

Looking around, she went to sit at a table by the window, idly staring out as she waited for the latte to cool. It wasn’t long until the guy from behind the counter brought over her lunch, giving a practiced customer service smile as he set it down. She thanked him as he left, quickly digging in. Oh, how she’d missed hot food in the last half a decade.

* * *

The next day was back at work once more, and Hatchet struggled to find time amongst her workload to try and speak to Pearl. Not that she really _wanted_ to, but she _did_ want to make sure everything to do with moving into that flat happened quickly, and it was unfortunately a part of that. It was only on her lunch break that she was able to go and find her, their conversation permeated by much of the same hostility as before.

“I’ve done all the forms and stuff I need to,” Hatchet said curtly. “So… Now it’s just waiting on referencing and paying the initial stuff.”

“Got that done quick,” Pearl remarked.

“Gee, it’s almost like I want a place to live or something already,” Hatchet said dryly.

“Can you fuck off with that sarcasm? I was _trying_ to be appreciative or something,” Pearl grumbled. “See, Rina? Why even bother when she’s like this anyway?”

Marina didn’t respond, paying attention to her laptop. Maybe she was listening to something on those headphones of hers. Maybe she was just tired of dealing with their bickering.

“Hmph. You’ve got a bank account of your own now, right? Tell me the details and how much you need and I’ll send it over.”

Hatchet pulled out her notepad and her bank card, writing down what was relevant before tearing off the page and passing it to Pearl, then muttering quietly through gritted teeth. “…Thanks.”

“Oh, are you _finally_ picking up some manners?” Pearl quipped sarcastically, glancing down at the page. “Oh, that’s like, nothing. You did actually pick a flat and not just like, a single room, right?”

“ _Yes_ , I picked a flat,” Hatchet said incredulously, growling slightly. “Two bedrooms, since you all want newbie in with me. And furnished.”

“Is it in a bad part of the city or something?” Pearl asked suspiciously.

“ _No_. Cod, get someone with a normal sense of money who didn’t grow up fucking minted to look at it if you’re so unsure.”

Pearl seemed unconvinced, but apparently set it aside, pulling her phone out and tapping away at an app. “Aight, sent. I mean, with an amount like that, it’s not like I reckon you’re lying to get extra out of me… If I’d realised it’d be that little I’d’ve offered sooner.”

_‘That little’? What does she earn here?_ Hatchet rolled her eyes incredulously. She wasn’t exactly surprised – it was well known Pearl came from a wealthy background in the first place.

“Anyway, since it’s not even that much, don’t act like you owe me or anything,” Pearl said blithely. “That can be, like… Thanks for helping with the AI, or something.”

“What, are you pitying me for not even having _that little_?” Hatchet asked scathingly.

“Why are you like this?” Pearl groaned. “I don’t like you, you don’t like me. I don’t want you acting like you have some kinda debt and following me around about it. Just fuckin’ take it, aight?”

“Hmph. That’s fine with me.” Hatchet walked away to go and actually _enjoy_ the rest of her lunch break. She didn’t have any banking app on her phone to check, but she wondered if Pearl had managed to miss a significant figure or two or if she really was just that blissfully unaware with regards to money. She’d have to look into it later.

The rest of the day wore on and she ended up with a text from an unrecognised number, the contents of it telling her it was Lavender asking if she’d be free to go to the library. Now that she didn’t have to scavenge, she found herself with an awful lot of time on her hands, so agreed to go after work finished. Once her work day was over, earlier than many of the other staff members due to her own early start, she headed to the library right away. Lavender had said she’d be inside already, so she didn’t waste any time in going in.

It didn’t take long to find her, poking through the shelves at fiction. She wasn’t alone – there was an octoling Hatchet recognised with her, Eight.

“Hey,” Hatchet said as she walked over.

“Oh! You’re here!” Lavender said as she turned, waving slightly. “You two have met, right?”

“Yes…” Eight replied, watching Hatchet uneasily. Hatchet wasn’t surprised – she’d been pretty livid on the occasion they’d gone to deal with the AI together at that empty test centre. Unlike with the newbie though, there wasn’t any expectation for the two of them to get along, so Hatchet dismissed it.

Lavender seemed to notice her discomfort, too, taking more note of it. “Hatchet’s not that bad. And helping her out with that stuff is why we’re here in the first place. Let’s go find a computer,” she said confidently, going around the shelves. Eight and Hatchet followed her, Hatchet wondering why Lavender seemed so unbothered by her.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” Hatchet asked.

Eight glanced at her, uncertain, but Lavender didn’t seem to notice. “Um, I think she is meaning you, Lavender…”

“Hmm?” Lavender turned back, looking up at Hatchet. “What do you mean?”

“You know all the worst stuff I’ve done. How can you go around saying I’m ‘not that bad’?” Hatchet asked suspiciously.

“Because you want to be better,” Lavender said promptly, resuming her trail towards the computers.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Lavender repeated. “Well. That’s not _only_ it. D’you remember the first time you saw me at the warehouse? And then if you compare that, and how you were when we all met at the test centre to how you were when we met up by chance and you joined us in going to the park the first time, there was a big difference. There wasn’t really a huge amount of time between those but you were _way_ less aggressive at the park, so you’re clearly coming along on your own anyway. So… If you can be that much better that quickly even when dealing with everything you have, that’s kind of a big deal. And if you’re actively trying to be better to the extent that you’re willing to seek help, that’s a big step! So as far as I can see there’s no reason to not give you that chance. I want to see just how far you’ll go.”

Thinking back on it, Hatchet supposed there _was_ quite a stark difference in the times she’d met up with Lavender. She hadn’t really noticed it before. Had her behaviour really shifted that rapidly? Or was it just because Nattie had been there the latter time?

Then again, the first time she’d had to spend any length of time with Nattie hadn’t been much better. A wave of regret washed over her as she remembered how adamantly she’d made it clear she didn’t want Nattie there when she first appeared at the warehouse. She wished she could take all of that back, now. What was the difference? Was it just knowing who she was? No. No, it couldn’t be that, when her immediate response to finding out was wanting to stay away from her even more. Then what?

Was it to do with actually facing her past instead of running away from it? Or was it because she had people she could rely on now? A lot of her hostility had stemmed from the belief that no-one was worth trusting, no-one could ever truly care for her. That misconception had been thoroughly shattered through the combined efforts of Peppermint and Phoebe, even if some of her old habits still lingered.

Hatchet shook her head slightly. She wasn’t sure. Whatever the cause was, it had happened regardless. Lavender had found a computer and logged onto it, quickly pulling up a search engine. She seemed like she knew what she was doing, so Hatchet left her to it, idly leaning against the wall nearby.

“Hmm… There are a couple different places nearby you could look at,” Lavender said. “This one looks pretty official… I think that one’s from public services whereas this one’s private? Maybe-”

“You!”

Lavender was cut off mid-sentence as someone said that, Hatchet looking up to see a blue-haired octoling rushing over, one she didn’t know.

“Me?” Lavender squeaked as she looked up at him. “Wait- wait a minute…” Her brow furrowed as she concentrated for a moment, looking confused. “I recognise you!”

“You do?” He scrambled in his pocket for a phone as he asked that, sounding partially hopeful and partially confused.

“Yeah, I- wait, why are you asking that if you recognised me too?” Lavender asked.

“I’ve been looking for who I think is you for weeks!” Pulling up a photo, he showed it to her. Hatchet peered over. It was blurry and indistinct, but it certainly looked like a shot of Lavender inside a test centre, and she recognised it. She’d seen it posted online before, that had been part of what led her to the place and meeting the rest of them. Had this guy been there?

“Oh! Oh! I remember that!” Lavender said excitedly. “I- I had forgotten about that- how did I forget that? But I remember now!”

“You all know this is a library, right?” Someone wearing a lanyard labelling them as staff had come over to them. “Can you keep it down? You’re being a bit noisy.”

“Oh! Sorry,” Lavender said, quickly hushing her tone before turning back to the octoling as they walked away. “You, you came to the test centre… Just a little while before everyone else showed up!”

“Test centre?” He echoed. “Please, you have to tell me about it. I don’t know what happened there but I lost all my memories. I only remember as far back as when I woke up outside of it.”

Eight’s eyes widened slightly. “You lost your memories also?”

Hatchet blinked, listening quietly. She didn’t really have much place in this conversation, it seemed, but she paid attention. Anything to do with that AI was worth knowing.

“Did that happen to you too?” He asked.

“Yes,” Eight replied. “I was on the Deepsea Metro for the first thing I can remember clearly. I think it is to do with the mem cakes? I could find those and they had a small bit of my memories, I think.”

“Oh… Where did you find them?”

“They were on the tests there…” Eight looked over at the other two. “It is the AI, I think, since my mem cakes were given back to me by Kamabo. It seems it has a way to, to take memories and turn it into them?”

“If it can do that, it would explain why I forgot, too,” Lavender said. “There’s _no way_ I would normally forget something like a person showing up.”

“I think we should talk to Marina and Pearl about it,” Eight said. “They are the most involved, and are good at working things out…”

“Yeah… Yeah, let’s do that,” Lavender agreed, looking back to the octoling. “What’s your name?”

“River,” he said. “Wait, do you mean Marina and Pearl as in… The idols who do the news?”

“Okay. Uh, yeah. Also, I’m Lavender, this is Eight,” Lavender said, then gesturing to Hatchet. “And that’s Hatchet.”

“Oh. Uh, hi,” he said briefly, waving slightly.

“I will talk to them,” Eight said, taking out her phone. She quickly opened up a messaging system, only for her face to fall slightly. “…Oh. That is… not good.”

“What?” Lavender asked.

“Um, there is some bad news about the AI,” Eight said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Apparently from C. Q. Cumber… Apparently the sanitised octarians from the Deepsea Metro are gone.”

“Sanitised octarians?” Lavender repeated questioningly as Eight tapped away at her phone.

Hatchet frowned. She remembered that term. The mindless puppets it used as foot soldiers. Was it amassing its resources to try and defend its remaining test centres?

“They were used in the tests…” Eight said, trailing off uncomfortably. “They are like octarians, but… dead… But it has a way of controlling them.”

“If it has those on its side, that’s not good,” Lavender murmured.

“Yes,” Eight agreed.

“What’s this all about, anyway? What’s going on?” River asked, although he seemed hesitant.

“Um…” Eight looked nervously across at him. “I think… I do not know what is best to say. The others are wanting to meet up to discuss it, so I think if you come with us, that would be best.”

“Oh,” he said. “When’s that?”

“Marina says she wants to as soon as everyone is available… The captain has said he can come up, so if Badger has not gone to patrol, we can meet when everyone is finished at work.”

“I guess Pep can find out from Badger,” Lavender said, bringing out her own phone. “I’ll let her know about it.”

Hatchet felt her own phone buzz, taking it from her pocket. It was a text from Marina, asking if she’d be free for it. Well, she supposed Marina wouldn’t have known she was here with Lavender and Eight anyway, responding that she was available.

Things were taking a turn, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to my mum who is a therapist and gave me all the detail for everything lavender said about EMDR, which is a method used to treat people with PTSD. that kinda detail about it is probably superfluous buuuut here i am regardless


	21. Collated news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to apologise in advance for trying to write cap'n cuttlefish rapping

The next hours didn’t pass quickly, waiting to hear back from everyone. Sidetracked from their original task at the library, they had ended up leaving before it closed, going to a coffee shop near the square.

Hatchet hung back, choosing to wait outside as the others sat with drinks. After work she was somewhat tired of people already, and if they were having a meeting with everyone she’d have to be _tolerable_ – that would be easier if she took some time to herself while she could. Even if she might be getting better at it… she wasn’t sure if she really was or not, but she would do what she could to make it easier for herself.

The others didn’t bother her, so presumably were fine with it, and she found a quiet alleyway to wander down, sitting and pulling out her tennis ball. She pulled her hood up as she sat, dropping down and leaning against the wall as she bounced the ball idly against the ground. It still felt like things were happening too fast to her, changing too rapidly for her to keep up, and new developments with that damned AI didn’t help. She wanted it dealt with more than ever – suddenly it wasn’t the only priority she had, and the list was only growing. It was time to start crossing things off.

She got a text a while later, Lavender letting her know they were soon going to meet up with the others and to come back to the café. It didn’t feel like enough respite, but she couldn’t just brush them off, so headed back inside regardless. She didn’t follow their conversation much as she followed them back to the city centre, though for once not to the studio. No, as they arrived at the city centre Eight showed them to a sewer grate, hopping into it.

 _Seriously? Don’t I have to spend enough time in shitty places already?_ Hatchet sighed to herself as she followed, but found it wasn’t long before they were in open air again – and somewhere a whole lot nicer than she’d expect for the other end of sewage lines, what appeared to be an island floating high in the open air.

There were people already waiting for them there, some she knew and some she didn’t – although she felt like she recognised two of the faces, if only vaguely. Of those she knew, there were Marina and Pearl, standing together outside a shed with hanging lanterns and a banner. Eight soon went to join them, Lavender and River following, the octoling wearing just a slight expression of shock. They _had_ told him Off the Hook were in on this, hadn’t they…?

Next to Marina and Pearl, sitting on a bench next to the shed, were the two she felt she almost recognised, chatting with an old withered inkling. One with silver green-tipped tentacles tied back, wearing a black dress and green cardigan, the other with long loose black tentacles fading to pink at the end wearing a pink beanie and cardigan of her own, both sharing the same golden eyes.

Hatchet wasn’t sure where she felt she recognised them from, but it was only the two of them, not the old guy or the orange tentacled inkling on the other side of him. They looked like they’d come straight from a college party, the way they were dressed. Short tentacles fell from a red rag tied around their head beneath a white cap worn backwards, sunglasses covering their eyes. Their baseball jersey added to the casual look. Next to them was Badger, Peppermint close by.

“Is this everyone, then?” The old inkling said as he looked over at the new arrivals, stroking his beard.

“I think it is,” Marina said.

“Jolly good. We have some introductions in order, I should think!” He glanced between Hatchet, Lavender, and River. “I’m Cap’n Craig Cuttlefish of the New Squidbeak Splatoon. Protecting the city is our business, and if you’re helping in that endeavour I’m glad to have you aboard.”

“Yo, old-timer. What’s with the stiff talk?” Pearl asked. “C’mon, hit me with some rhymes.”

“You’re absolutely right, I mustn’t get rusty. It may have been a while, but these words are still trusty,” he replied.

Hatchet groaned internally as Pearl grinned. _Is he **really** going to rap at us?_

“As I said, my name’s Craig, I set up this crew. From the sounds of things, we’ve been getting’ help from you,” he continued as Pearl began to beatbox. “Now my agents and I, we deal with all of the threats, but before, kidnappin’ zapfish was as bad as it gets. Now we’ve got an AI that’s tryin’a take out all life, and that’s settin’ up between us just a bit of a strife. It’s beefin’ up its defences, fortifyin’ its walls, we’re gonna tear it down and empty out the rest of its halls!”

He stopped there, seeming to take a breather for a while, and Pearl applauded, laughing as she clapped. “Not bad for on the fly!”

“Don’t think I’m done yet – I’ve only just begun! Let’s start by tellin’ you about Agent One.”

_Please kill me now._

“Now my granddaughter here, wearin’ all of the pink – don’t underestimate her now, she’s stronger than you’d think. The first agent I recruited with a roller in hand, she’ll strike you down before even just one shot you’ll land! And shortly after her, who’s next, well I’ll tell you who – it’s none other than her cousin, here, it’s Agent Two! This family of mine, we’re a cunning lot, give her a charger and look out before you’re swiftly shot!”

The agent he gestured at, the one in the green, looked about as impressed as Hatchet felt, speaking up then. “Alright, that’s enough for now, Gramps. Don’t wear yourself out.”

“Did you come up with all that just now?” Pearl asked.

“I may have been thinking about it before,” Cap’n Cuttlefish admitted.

“Dang. Well, still impressive, either way,” Pearl said.

“Well, uh, I don’t think I need introducing anyway, everyone here knows me,” Badger said quietly. “But I’m Agent Three.”

“U-um… I never heard back from you,” River said nervously.

Badger turned to him, their eyes soon widening and they looked away sheepishly. “Sh-shoot, I totally forgot,” they muttered. “Uh… My bad…”

River frowned slightly. “This whole time I thought something awful might’ve happened to you! I was really worried I’d led you to…” He trailed off, sighing. “Well, at least that _didn’t_ happen…”

“Seems there’s a lot to catch up on all around, eh?” Cap’n Cuttlefish said. “Well, let’s finish introducing everyone.”

“I got this, Cap,” said the unfamiliar inkling next to him. “’Sup, I’m Agent Four. Blaster main, good at getting into scrapes I really should’ve avoided ‘n getting out just fine anyway.”

“Tell that to the _many, many injuries_ I had to patch up,” Agent Two interjected.

“Hey, I said good, not perfect,” Agent Four replied. “If it happens, like, every time I’m on a mission and I only came out really that hurt maybe half a dozen times, that’s still a good track record.”

“Um, I think I am to everyone known too,” Eight said. “But I am Agent Eight. Are we… saying what weapon we prefer?”

“It just seemed the easiest thing to work with when I was coming up with rhymes,” Cap’n Cuttlefish replied. “It’s up to you.”

“Oh. Well, I like the octobrush…”

“That’s the official members of the Splatoon spoken for, then,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said.

“Why are there agents one to four and then eight but no five, six or seven?” Peppermint asked.

“Details, details,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said airily, waving his hand. “Why don’t the rest of you tell us who you are and your involvement with the situation?”

“Oh… okay. Um, I’m Peppermint. I’m here because… I was made by the AI, and want to help get rid of it, if I can…”

Following the circle that the speakers had almost vaguely gone in, eyes fell on Hatchet next. _Ugh._ “…Hatchet. I’m here to destroy the AI.” They moved swiftly on, thankfully.

“I’m Lavender! I was made by it too, but I haven’t really gone along with the others in shutting down the centres it has or anything… But, I found River, and he seems to know something about it, or something?” Lavender gestured to him, and he seemed to draw in an uncertain breath before he spoke.

“Hey… Uh, I’m River, and I _think_ the AI thing you’re all talking about might have stolen my memories or something.”

“Leaves just us, but we shouldn’t need any introduction,” Pearl said with a smirk.

“Hey, I need one. Who are you?” Agent Four asked.

Pearl’s jaw near enough dropped as she stared over at them. “How do you _not know?_ We do the news on a huge TV in the square _multiple times a day_. Other TVs too!”

“Are you sure? What if it’s not on other TVs?”

Pearl scoffed incredulously for a second, before pausing. “If you don’t know, then maybe it’s _not_ on other TVs… Does this mean people only know who we are around the square?”

“Pearlie, I think they might be joking,” Marina said, and as Hatchet looked over she could see a smile playing on Four’s lips, struggling to remain hidden.

“I- I knew that!” Pearl said quickly as Four failed to hold it in anymore, laughing.

“Well, now that we all know who we are, let’s begin! This little meeting was brought about to collect our information and get everyone up to speed,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said, then pausing as he looked around everyone. “Although I suppose it’s not so little now, is it? Makes a change from when it was just myself and Agents One to Three.”

“What, we’ve got… A full dozen people here?” Agent Two said. “Getting a little crowded.”

“An effective strike force! And from the sounds of things, we’ll need it,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said. “As you may be aware, while down on the Deepsea Metro and getting information from C. Q. Cumber, I found out the sanitised octarians from all the tests there had disappeared. Even C. Q. Cumber himself was quite stumped as to _how_ they all vanished, but that will be a matter to investigate going forwards. For now, we can assume the reason they’re gone is that the telephone is gathering its own forces.”

“This means that proceeding with handling the test centres is going to be a lot more dangerous,” Marina said. “I don’t know the nature of how it controls them, but it might be relying on them as a means to fight intruders without relying on mechanics – that is, they’ll be there to stop us even after using the EMP…”

“Precisely. So, for the task of fighting through octarians – well, there are no finer candidates than the Splatoon. All of our agents are _quite_ experienced there,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said.

“Uh, so… where do I fit in…?” River asked.

“Eight told us you had something to do with the AI?” Marina asked.

“Yeah, ya gotta spill what ya got,” Pearl said.

“Well, I don’t have much…” He got out his phone, pulling up the blurry photo of Lavender again to show around. “All I know is I lost all my memories and woke up outside one of its test centres, the one I showed those two the way to,” he said, gesturing at Peppermint and Badger. “Since this photo was on the day I lost them, I was looking for the person in it, and found her just today…”

“I think it must be that the AI can take them, since I lost my memories from when I was on the Deepsea Metro, also,” Eight said.

“Makes sense,” Badger said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s to do with the goo stuff, since I didn’t remember anything from when it was on me.”

“So, the conclusion we’re drawing is it can take people’s memories,” Agent Two said. “But what does that matter – that is, why does it do that, and more importantly, how does that info help us?”

“Is it using the memories for something?” Agent One asked.

“While we were helping Eight with the Deepsea Metro, upon completing tests she got a mem cake – it was as if her memories had been taken and turned into a physical little thing, somehow,” Marina mused.

“And once I had the mem cake, it seems like the memory would come back, though not entirely,” Eight added. “It is… How do I explain… I do not really remember the exact events of things. But I remember the feelings, and I remember the thoughts I had. It is like… It gave me back the bits of myself, but I still do not know what things happened.”

“So, like… the experience but not the actual stuff?” Agent One asked.

“Um… I do not know?” Eight said, thinking. She shook her head. “I do not know. I remember the feelings, and I remember what it made me think, but I do not remember what it is that made what I thought.”

“So, these mem cake things that gave you back sort-of your memories, uh, how did you get them?” River asked.

“I completed tests at the Deepsea Metro,” Eight replied. “I wonder if you could get some there as well? But the tests used the sanitised octarians, and if they are gone, then what has happened to the test?”

“That also… depends on if they would be there or not…” Marina said quietly.

“What do you mean?” Eight asked.

“Well, it wouldn’t be able to dispense the mem cakes if it didn’t have them. If it took your memories at the test centre Lavender came from, then… I suppose it depends what it does with them? If it stores them digitally and sends them to a particular machine on the Metro that makes the mem cakes, or if whatever it does to take them does that immediately… It depends on the process, which we know nothing about,” Marina explained. “If… If it _is_ specifically based around the Metro, then getting the mem cakes should be fine. But if it’s not, and it just makes them there and then…”

“Then they’d be at the place I woke up outside of,” River said, nodding to himself. “So… Where should I look first, that place or the Metro?”

“Well…” Marina shared uneasy glances with Eight and Pearl. “If it’s at the Metro and you would have to go through the tests, you might not be able to anymore if the sanitised octarians are gone. It’s not really a test if there aren’t any obstacles…”

“Okay, so what about the other place?” River asked.

Marina bit her lip, looking aside.

“Sorry, buddy,” Pearl began, uncharacteristically quiet. “That place is long gone. Shit kinda hit the fan, and it ended up blown up.”

River was silent for a moment. “…So there isn’t really much chance of me getting them…”

“You can try the Metro,” Eight offered hopefully. “If it did send them there, then, even if you cannot do all the tests, there may be some other way to get them…”

“…Yeah…” River gave a resigned sigh. “I guess I’ll at least have a look. I mean… Honestly, I kinda gave up on it already anyway… So it’s not like it’s a new disappointment…”

“Hey, there’s still a chance!” Agent One piped up. “C’mon, don’t be too down about it. There’s still hope!”

“Mm…” He still looked disheartened, but looked up. “So what are you all going to do?”

“Well, we’ve got a job to do,” Agent Four said. “If this thing’s a threat to all life everywhere, we can’t just sit ‘n ignore it, whether it has an army or not. And not to brag or anything, but I’ve already dealt with one army of octarians, so what’s another one with an extra word thrown in?”

Hatchet glanced over at Eight, River and Marina. _How do those lot feel about all this…?_ Well, if River had no memories, he might not have much attachment to his species, but even so… She’d heard some conflicting things about octarians in her time in Inkopolis, from the idea that they were just a myth to rumours of invasions from them. She didn’t really care much herself, but she couldn’t imagine it was comfortable being an octoling surrounded by people talking about having fought wars against them. Eight did look a little bothered, but Marina’s expression was stoic. If any of this got to her, she hid it well.

“In light of what we know, I propose that going forward, we bring more people along on each trip to the test centres,” Marina said. “If we end up having to fight our way through sanitised octarians, it’s imperative that we give ourselves the best odds. I don’t want to lose anyone.”

“Hear, hear,” Cap’n Cuttlefish agreed. “My agents are the finest you’ll find, both in skill and in character. I’ll not have a single one of you falling in the line of duty, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, gramps,” Agent Two replied.

Agent One nodded next to her. “We’ll stay safe. I don’t wanna lose any friends, here, either.”

“Not planning on kicking the bucket just yet,” Agent Four added.

“I will do my best,” Eight said, wearing a determined expression. “I am not to die to it, not then, or ever.”

“That thing’s tried me plenty already, I’m not losing to it this time,” Badger said. Peppermint reached down to take their hand in hers, squeezing it.

“I don’t want to let anyone get hurt,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I’m cut out for fighting, but I’ll help.”

“That’s a brave decision, lass,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said solemnly, looking up at her. “I’ll thank you for taking care of my agents.” He turned to the rest of them. “And you all?”

“No need to ask me,” Hatchet muttered, frowning. “I’m taking that AI down, no matter what I have to get past.”

“Sounds like you have plenty of resolve.” The old inkling looked at her with a watchful expression, thoughtful. “I hope for your sake it’s for the right reasons.”

Hatchet narrowed her eyes, turning away. _My reasons are none of your business._ Even so, thinking about it, she didn’t feel quite the same now as she did before. She still hated that thing – oh, how she hated it – but now… Now there were other things to give a damn about, too. There was more to her life than _just_ hating that damned AI. There was… some tangible hope for it to be worth living, and not just out of spite for the thing. There was _joy_ to be had, there were _reasons_ to move forward now. And this thing was in her way. _Not for long, not if I have any say in it._

“Y’all already know we’re in,” Pearl said, drawing Cap’n Cuttlefish’s attention elsewhere.

“Of course,” Marina agreed. “We’ll do everything we can.”

Cap’n Cuttlefish nodded, turning to Lavender and River. “And the two of you?”

“Um, I’d love to help…” Lavender began, though her voice was somewhat small. “But… I don’t really have… any combat training or anything. Unless ink sports count…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said. “Young lass, there’s no use throwing yourself into things you can’t do. As I said, I don’t want anyone dying on me – so I certainly won’t ask you to put yourself at needless risk out of your element. You’ve done a fine job helping bring in more intel.”

“Thank you,” Lavender said, smiling.

“Uh, I don’t really know what I should do…” River said. “I… well, apparently I used to be a soldier, but I don’t know the details. I’ve done ink sports ‘n stuff myself, but I dunno if that’s really the same…”

“Used to be a soldier, now?” Cap’n Cuttlefish stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well, if you’d like, we could do some regimens. See how you keep up with the other agents, if your soldier training holds up in muscle memory or the like. It’s up to you, though. I’ll not ask you to endanger your life if you aren’t willing to.”

“Um… I think… I’ll think about it,” River replied uncertainly. “I want to help if I can… but I dunno. I’ll… get back to someone about it…?”

Cap’n Cuttlefish nodded. “As you will! In that case, we know everyone’s positions. So, the plan moving forward?” He looked over to Marina.

“I’ve already had a look at the remaining test centres, and where to go next,” she replied. “There are only two left. One’s in Salmonid territory, it seems to be underwater? So the other would be easiest to get to, for now. We’ll have to work out how to handle the underwater one later.”

“I see. And whereabouts are we headed?”

“It’s pretty far, in the mountain ranges southwest of the city.”

“Question,” Hatchet said. The others turned to look at her. “The test centre halls aren’t exactly wide. How’re we planning on handling big numbers in there?”

“A good point,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said. “We’ll have to consider the best way to handle crowds.”

“That’ll apply to the octarians too, though, right?” Agent One replied. “If it’s a narrow corridor, sounds perfect for mowing down with a roller.”

“Don’t forget half of them are airborne,” Agent Two pointed out.

_Airborne? What the hell kinda things are they?_

“There’s a lot yet to consider,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said, gazing up at the horizon where the sun was beginning to sink out of sight. “And for today, it’s late. We’ve gotten everyone up to speed with everything we know quite well, I believe. I daresay we can adjourn this meeting, and Miss Iida and I can formulate a plan of attack.”

“That’s it for today, then?” Agent Four asked.

“Indeed. We shall get in touch once there is an update to the situation,” Cap’n Cuttlefish replied. “For now, you’re dismissed.”

Hatchet glanced around at everyone. Despite his words, no-one was heading to leave just yet, starting up new conversations with each other. Well, she was done here. Just before she turned to leave, she noticed the elderly inkling watching her, that same solemn look in his eyes. She didn’t care for the expression he wore. _You don’t know me, old man._ Shrugging it off, she walked away, slipping through the grate back to the city. The sooner this all was over, the better.


	22. Fresh space

The next days felt too _slow_. Waiting for finalisation on the flat she’d made an offer on, waiting for new plans for dealing with the AI, Hatchet was just left _waiting._ It wasn’t something she cared for.

She didn’t like feeling like she wasn’t doing anything, so she turned her thoughts to what Marina had mentioned of one of the remaining test centres, the fact that it was underwater, and wondered how they’d manage that. Would they need a submarine? Would they be able to get something like that? Would Pearl’s ridiculously rich family already have one anyway? How far underwater would it be? Without any info, she couldn’t think of much in the way of answers.

Work kept her occupied for the most part, but not enough that when she passed the dressing room to see Marina’s laptop left unattended it didn’t give her an idea. They were recording the news right now, and while Hatchet hadn’t quite worked out just how long it took, she had a vague idea of when they might be back. Delivering the equipment she was holding where it needed to be, she quickly turned back, hoping everyone would assume her rapid stride just meant she already had more things to do as she made a beeline for the dressing room.

Stepping in, she headed straight to the laptop. A browser window was left open which she promptly ignored, minimising it to see the desktop. There weren’t many files on it but instead a scattering of folders, placed in the shape of a heart against the background of a photo of Pearl, framing her face. _Saps_. Whereabouts would that list be…?

Not really sure where to start, Hatchet tried opening the file explorer, nosing through the recent files. Thinking back on how long it had been since their last excursion – feeling a strong pang of guilt remembering her actions – she worked out what date it would have been on, looked for things around then. A spreadsheet caught her eye, and she opened it.

Compared to the computers at the library, Marina’s laptop was _fast_. Sure enough, the spreadsheet seemed to be the list of test centres she’d never been given a copy of, with co-ordinates to locations and most of them featuring a filled tick box. Pulling out her notebook, Hatchet quickly noted down the coordinates of the two remaining without any tick box, tearing off the scrap of paper and stuffing it into another pocket. If she could try and go there, maybe she’d have some better ideas. Maybe it would be close to the shore. She wondered if she’d be able to see it from above water. She didn’t have any weekend plans, so could go and have a look then.

Closing the file explorer, she brought back up the browser, leaving the laptop looking as she’d found it. Straightening up, she looked around, quickly making her way back to the set – but as soon as she left the room, she found herself face to face with Marina and Pearl – well, mostly Marina. Pearl was a little too short to be anywhere near face height. _Shit._

“What’re you doing in our dressing room?” Pearl asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Fuck off, runt,” Hatchet growled, trying to think of an excuse for being in there.

“Do you two _have_ to be like this?” Marina said, sighing. “Did you need something?”

 _Sure. Yeah. Let’s go with that._ “…Yeah. Wasn’t sure if you were still doing the news stuff or not.” _What it is I need I will work out momentarily._

“Well, here we are,” Marina prompted.

Hatchet found herself failing to come up with anything immediately, and the seconds ticked by. The blatant awkwardness pressured her. _Fuck. This is so obvious. Unless I find an excuse that makes sense to be awkward._ Well, there were definitely things she was awkward about generally – anything to do with trying to ask for help, or trying to be better than she was, or any of all that which left her so out of her element. What was it she’d been feeling bad about just a moment ago? _Ah. Right. All that with… that guy._

Hatchet’s brow creased slightly as she looked down, rubbing her arm. The nerves weren’t just about being caught there anymore. “How’s… Henry?” Even as she spoke she felt that anger twist her mouth into a snarl, but guilt rose up now too, and shame.

Pearl maintained her suspicious glare. “You don’t _look_ like you actually care with that face.”

“Can you fuck off?” Hatchet snapped, though it was weaker than usual, her voice held back by the guilt making her feel so small. “I just… I don’t…” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “I _know_ I fucked up. And even if I know it’s stupid and unreasonable, all that… Everything I had to deal with is just associated with _him_ now. I don’t want anything to do with him, I don’t want him anywhere _near_ me, but I still _know_ that all is wrong, it just… doesn’t _change_ anything to know that.”

“Pearlie, she’s trying,” Marina said gently, placing a hand on Pearl’s shoulder. Pearl huffed slightly and crossed her arms, but didn’t say anything more, so Marina continued. “He’s… still shaken up from the sounds of things, but physically he’s fine. I don’t think he has any interest in going near you either, so… Hopefully the two of you can just stay away from each other, at least until you’ve managed to sort out… that,” she said, gesturing vaguely at Hatchet.

Hatchet’s gaze dropped slightly, her ears turning down further. _Yeah, I get it, I’m a mess._ She was torn, _knowing_ on one hand that none of it was his fault and it was awful of her to blame him for it all – but on the other, she was so _hurt_ by it all, and having someone to target, someone to get back at who could actually be _punished_ – she’d wanted that for so long.

_Is that what I’ve been looking for this whole time?_

It wasn’t new that she wanted revenge. She’d known that with perfect clarity for years. Before, though, it was only aimed at the AI, that mechanical disembodied voice of a soulless monster, just a series of code with no feelings, no suffering, no way for her to truly hurt it. But now, shifting it to Henry, she had _wanted_ him to suffer. Wanted to hurt him, wanted to kill him. She had _wanted_ to make what remained of his life a living hell, like hers had been.

_Is that the kind of person I am?_

The guilt and shame flooded through her again, bringing misery along with it. She had despised all the people of the city for so long for letting her suffer, but she wasn’t any better. For all this time she had _wanted_ to inflict that on someone, just hadn’t had a target for it. Tears rose up in her eyes, a lump in her throat making her words come out quiet, wobbly.

“…I know I’m not a good person,” Hatchet said lowly. “I know I fucked up. I just don’t know how to- try and change this. How to stop being angry.”

“Get therapy?” Pearl muttered, rolling her eyes.

Her attitude irritated Hatchet – as always – and drew a growl from her. “Fuck you. Do you think I can fucking _get_ therapy right now? I’m already looking into it, asshole, but my finances are far from steady yet, I haven’t even moved in.”

“Oh yeah, looks like you’re trying _so hard_ to be better when you’re immediately cursing at me. Good job,” Pearl said sarcastically.

“Stop it, the pair of you,” Marina said, shaking her head slightly. “If you two are going to be at each other’s throats all the time just stay away from each other.”

“Fine with me,” Hatchet growled. Pearl simply huffed, turning away.

“If you’re already looking into it, good. These things don’t happen overnight, but trying is the first step,” Marina continued. “Self-improvement isn’t easy by any means, but if you’re willing to put the work in, there’s no reason to think you won’t be able to do it.”

Hatchet nodded. “Mm… As soon as I get properly moved in and all I’ll be looking to get some.”

“Good,” Marina repeated. “Well, I’m sure they need you back on set. And in the meantime, if you two really can’t tolerate each other could you _please_ just leave each other alone,” she added with a sigh.

“Can do,” Hatchet replied, glaring at Pearl before turning to walk away. Pearl glared back, flipping her off as she went.

* * *

The rest of the week passed quickly, and upon checking her emails Hatchet found herself with a date for moving into the flat, able to go and pick up the keys on the weekend. It still didn’t quite feel real to her as she went to the estate agents as soon as they opened on Saturday morning, soon handed two pairs of keys for the place. She went over immediately, eager, unlocking the door.

It opened out into a sitting room, the largest room in the flat, already furnished with a sofa, a TV stand, and a dining table with chairs. On the right led into a small kitchenette with all the essential white goods, the cupboards stocked with crockery and pans. Opposite to the front door were two more doors leading to the two bedrooms, with a bathroom next to one of them. This was… a proper home. _Her_ home. She would get to live here, and it would be warm, and comfortable, and she could _cook things_ , and be able to properly store things so they wouldn’t get damaged, she could buy more clothes and they wouldn’t just _rot_ , she could _get clean_ and _wash_ her clothes without having to walk over an hour there and back…

Walking over to one of the bedrooms, she sniffed slightly as she walked in. Already there was a double bed with bedside cabinet and a chest of drawers, and while the room was otherwise bare, that alone was so much more than she’d had in so long. Crashing down onto the bed and ignoring the lack of sheets, she took her boots off, feeling how comfortable it was. Not as much as Phoebe’s but still infinitely better than having nothing but a beanbag and a blanket. She couldn’t stop the overwhelming relief that spread through her, tears rising in her eyes.

This was her home now. _Her home._ She _had_ one of those now.

She couldn’t stop herself from crying then, too choked up to do anything else. She sat there for a while, sniffling as tears ran down her cheeks, letting it out until she could pull herself back together again. Taking a deep breath, she paused, pulling out her phone. She wasn’t sure how to get ahold of newbie, so instead texted Peppermint, asking her to let them know she had the keys now. Standing again, she soon put her boots back on, emptying the contents of her pockets out onto the bed. She could think of where to put things later – for now she had to go and pick up the remaining few bits of her belongings.

Heading back to the dump for what would hopefully be the last time she ever went, she wandered over to her little shelter. She picked up the bag she’d folded her spare clothes in with the lavender pouch and stuffed the generator and components in, along with her crowbar, torch and claw gloves. Picking up the rest of the food lying around, there wasn’t much else there – only the beanbag and her blanket. She didn’t really need them, not now that she had an actual bed. The time spent outside meant they had gotten wet with dew overnight here and there too, leaving them soggy and prime for mould growth. They’d helped keep her going for so long, but now… She didn’t need them anymore.

Well, the dump was already the perfect place for rubbish, so here they would stay. With everything she needed stuffed into the bag, she turned away, and the sense of freedom as she left the dump was powerful. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she walked away, never to go back there again. She was done with that, no more living in abandoned buildings and trash sites, no more struggling to gather enough scrap for pocket change. That part of her life was over, that chapter had come to a close.

Heading back to her flat, she received another text from Peppermint, asking for the address. Giving it to her, Hatchet idly wondered as she walked how long it would be before newbie arrived. Hopefully they’d have no issue with the bedroom choice, given Hatchet had already claimed one. They were about the same size anyway.

Getting back in, she soon dropped her things on the bed with everything else, then went out to shop for food – proper food, and ingredients to make actual meals with instead of just snacks. She found a shop nearby and got a variety of things, enough to make a handful of meals she still remembered how to cook, then headed back. While in the process of putting them all away in the cupboards, she heard the buzzer go off, startling her into jumping slightly. Going over to investigate the source of the noise, it was near the phone by the door. The estate agent had mentioned how that worked when she viewed the place, and she picked it up.

“Hello?”

She was met with silence, but it didn’t take long to work out why. “Uh. Guess you’re on your own. I’ll, open the door.” Hatchet put the phone down and pressed the button to unlock the building’s front door, waiting by her own for a while. Soon enough she heard a knock, and opened up to see the newbie, carrying a backpack with them.

“Hey. I was just unpacking some groceries,” Hatchet said as she stepped aside to let them in, then rooting in her pocket. “Here, your set of keys.”

They took them from her, then pulled out the little pocket notebook she’d given them to write on.

‘Thank you for having me here. Also, I found a name with the others. I’m Pascal.’

“Pascal, huh? Alright.” Hatchet wandered through the sitting room, showing them around. “Kitchen’s there. Bathroom’s there, the other two doors are to the bedrooms. I already picked the one on the right but they’re pretty much the same anyway.”

Pascal nodded, going through to the other bedroom. Hatchet left them to it, going to finish putting the food away. Going back through to the sitting room, she glanced over at the bathroom, something occurring to her. She’d have to go out again. Pascal had left the door to their room open, so she went over to them.

“I don’t have towels or bedsheets so gonna go buy some, you need any?”

Pascal was sat on the bed, their backpack emptied out next to them. It seemed mostly to have contained a toolbox and a chunk of machinery, with only a spare change of clothes being the only other thing visible. They nodded to her, getting up and moving to join her.

“…You wanna come with?”

Pascal nodded again, smiling slightly.

“Alright,” Hatchet replied, shrugging as she went back to her room to grab her bank card and the cash that had ended up dumped on the bed when she emptied her pockets. _Need to get myself a wallet now that I actually have stuff to put in one. Hmm._

She knew there was a home wares store near the city centre, so headed in that direction. Pascal followed. The flat was about a half hour walk away, so she wondered if she should try and make conversation on the way. She was certainly in a good enough mood for it today.

“So, what’s with the toolkit and stuff?”

Pascal brought out the notebook again, slowing slightly as they wrote, only to quickly change their mind and flick to a prior page to show her, pointing to a certain sentence. ‘I was repairing that PUMA when you all came to where I was.’

The question Hatchet immediately had seemed to have already been asked, as it was written further down on the page-

‘Programmable Universal Manipulation Arm. It’s a mechanical arm, basically.’

_I’m glad they’re able to actually talk with the others now, if this stuff is all from prior conversations._

Pascal flicked through the pages already written on, then went to their current one, writing again. ‘I did manage to fix it but now I can’t give it back to go back where it came from, so I’ve just been taking it apart and putting it back together again sometimes.’

“You fix all this kinda stuff?”

Pascal nodded.

“Huh. I wouldn’t know where to start with that. I managed to put together my EMP but that’s the only thing I really know anything about, and I still don’t get it completely.”

Pascal’s eyebrows rose as they smiled slightly, scribbling down. ‘EMP?’

“Electromagnetic pulse. Honestly, I don’t know that much about science or engineering or anything, I just needed to be able to get rid of the AI, so I looked up stuff that would work for that and managed to learn enough to put it together. It’s kinda just a handful of stuff stuck together attached to a generator, really. I don’t even remember what half of it is called. There was a magnet-thingy which… I think is what makes the actual pulse? And then other stuff that… tweaks it, I guess? Fuck, I don’t know the specifics. I just know it works. I plug it into the generator and give it some juice, then all the electrics nearby stop working for a while.”

Pascal listened curiously, soon writing down again. ‘Can I have a look at it?’

Hatchet paused briefly, blinking. “Uh… Maybe? I need it to definitely still be working…” She had no idea if the EMP would be the same kind of thing as the arm Pascal had mentioned or not, and if it ended up breaking that would cause significant problems for their remaining excursions to deal with the AI. Then again, there were only two of those yet to do… “You can have a look for a bit later, but don’t poke around it too much for now, just in case. Then later when I’m done with it you can do whatever you like with it.”

Pascal frowned slightly, looking a little bit miffed as they wrote more. ‘Do you think I might break it? I know what I’m doing. If it’s something I’m not familiar with I wouldn’t try taking it apart. I fix things, not break them.’

“I just wanna be sure. If anything happens to it that’s just gonna be a really big problem for what we’re doing,” Hatchet said, growling slightly. “I wouldn’t even wanna poke around with it too much myself, and I’m the one who made the damn thing.”

Pascal seemed a little dissatisfied but didn’t write anything further, leaving the two walking in silence for a while. Hatchet chose to ignore it. _We need it working. If they wanna be mad about it, go right ahead._ Arriving at the store, Hatchet wandered over to where the towels were, grabbing a couple for herself. “You fussed about which ones you want?”

Pascal looked over the ones on the shelf, soon drawn to the lighter colours. Hatchet had just picked up the first ones she saw, one in navy blue and one in dark green, but Pascal opted for the lighter options, picking up a pastel yellow and lilac pair. Moving over to the bedsheets, Hatchet picked up a set with a patterned design while Pascal took one in a pale blue, striped with orange. Taking it all to the tills, the amount it cost still seemed like a _lot_ to Hatchet, even knowing she could afford it all and more now, having to shake off the instinct to stop and save this money for food instead. _This is fine. And also a necessity._

Bagging it all up and heading home – cod, that was such a wonderful thought, to head to a proper _home_ – Hatchet glanced up at Pascal, noting the scar on their cheek. She couldn’t deny she was curious about it, but if they’d been hurt while in the test centre, who knew what that thing might’ve put them through. It wasn’t really her business, and they might not want to talk about it. She knew _she_ certainly wouldn’t when it came to her own experiences.

Then again, it seemed more like they had learned things in at least some capacity, if they knew how to repair all this stuff, so perhaps their time in the test centre was more like Peppermint and Lavender’s. _Was it really just me…?_ Hatchet shook those thoughts away, unwilling to go down that mental road again. Today was a _good_ day. She had a home now.

“You got any more stuff to bring over or was everything you had in that one bag?” Hatchet asked.

Pascal pulled out the notebook to write in again. ‘That was everything.’

“Guess we both need to fill out our wardrobes a bit more, then,” Hatchet muttered. “If I get some cash out I can leave some with you so you don’t have to rely on me being around for it.”

‘I have a little from turf war too.’

“Right… If you’re good at repairing all sorts of things I’ll bet you could advertise that and get paid that way, too.”

‘I can?’

“Sure. Stuff breaks all the time. If you can fix weird niche stuff like that… arm thing then you can definitely make money out of it. Or get a job as a mechanic or something, if you have those skills already no reason why you couldn’t get one.”

Pascal paused thoughtfully. ‘Will it matter that I can’t speak?’

“It _shouldn’t_ ,” Hatchet replied, narrowing her eyes slightly. “If you can do the job, you can do the job, whether you talk or not. That said, people are really good at being assholes about stupid things sometimes…”

Pascal looked down, letting out a slow exhale. They didn’t seem to have much more to say, walking along steadily.

“Have you thought about sign language?”

They looked over at her, tilting their head slightly before writing again. ‘What is that?’

“It’s a kind of language done using your hands instead, so deaf and hard-of-hearing people learn it. Since it doesn’t require a voice, figured it would make sense for you to try it too. It’s probably faster than writing, and doesn’t need you to carry that notepad around everywhere.”

Pascal listened thoughtfully, writing again. ‘I didn’t know about that. How do I learn it?’

“Look up lessons online, I guess,” Hatchet replied. “I might as well learn too. We can have a look later.”

Pascal smiled at her, flicking to a previous page to show. ‘Thank you.’

Hatchet huffed slightly. “It’s nothing.”

Pascal tilted their head thoughtfully again before writing. ‘Then how come no-one else did this?’

Reading that, Hatchet let out a derisive huff. “I dunno, because they’re idiots?”

Pascal shook their head before writing again, pausing at one point to tap their pen against the page as they searched for the words. ‘It doesn’t seem to occur to them. You’re just more mindful of the muteness. Why is that?’

“If they’re not paying attention to it, they’re being _obscenely_ oblivious,” Hatchet muttered. It didn’t seem like she was doing anything in particular. Why was it the others weren’t so attentive? To her, it just seemed like not having a voice would be awful, so if she could help alleviate it, of course she would. It would be like all those nightmares leaving her trapped and unable to cry out or beg for mercy, like all those times when she first arrived in the city praying that _anyone_ would speak to her and _help_ her when she needed it only to be ignored and alone-

_Oh._

The others wouldn’t have those experiences to compare to. She wasn’t sure just how much of a point of reference it really gave her, but it was enough for her to empathise at least a little. Glancing up at Pascal, she saw the scar again, found herself wondering once more what their life might have been like. How much might they have in common? Pascal was new to the city now, left disadvantaged by situation and largely ignored by those around them compared to most people – there were certainly some similarities to her own arrival.

_No-one should go through that._

Of course, Pascal _wouldn’t_ go through anything like that, already getting a proper place to stay and having a group of people they knew, but even just a few similarities to Hatchet’s own past made her want to rectify that as much as possible.

Pascal tapped her shoulder, making her jump slightly as it drew her out of her thoughts. They gestured to the page they held out for her to read, one she hadn’t noticed as she was wrapped up in her considerations.

‘They got a bit better about it after you gave me the notebook and all, but none of them mentioned sign language or anything. And sometimes they don’t notice when I’m trying to show them things. It’s easier with you because it already feels like you actually want to know what I’m saying.’

“…If it’s harder talking to them that’s a failing on their part,” Hatchet said quietly, huffing slightly. Even if she’d said as much before, it was still true. There really wasn’t any legitimate reason why _anyone_ should find _her_ of all people to be the easiest person to talk to. “If you find talking to me fine, then great, but it shouldn’t be hard with everyone else. That just sucks.”

‘No matter what the reason, it is easier with you. You make it easier. Thank you.’

Upon reading that, Hatchet wasn’t given enough time to respond after, instead finding herself wrapped up in a tight hug. The pressure against her feeling like it held her in place immediately brought up familiar nausea, panic rising in her, and she shifted forms to wriggle free of Pascal’s grasp, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow.

“D-don’t do that,” she said quickly.

Pascal looked down at her, surprised, tilting their head before moving to write again. ‘I saw the others doing that. Is it not okay?’

Hatchet shook her head, trying to steady her breathing. _It was just a hug. Not a trap. Not a restraint. Just a hug._ “It’s… fine with most people. Just not me. I don’t… Just… don’t hug me.”

Pascal’s expression fell slightly as they added to the notebook. ‘Okay. Sorry.’

“…It’s fine. Just don’t do it again.”

Still left on edge, the rest of the walk home passed in silence, Hatchet too unnerved to speak. She hated how something as small and simple as that was enough to set her off. Arriving back home, Hatchet decided to make good use of their new purchases, about to have a shower when Pascal gently brushed her arm, drawing her attention to point at their notebook.

‘Are you okay?’

“…I’ll be fine.” Looking up at Pascal, they watched her nervously, glancing at their notebook and going to write but hesitating, tapping the pen against the page briefly before scrawling a quick question.

‘Are you upset with me?’

“What?” Hatchet quickly shook her head. “No. It’s nothing to do with you.” Looking up at them, they still didn’t seem quite sure of themself. “Don’t worry about it. Just give me a moment and I’ll be fine.”

They didn’t seem to have more to say so Hatchet went to the bathroom to shower. Not only would it give her time to calm down more, but she’d get to appreciate the feeling of a proper shower, right here in the comfort of her own home. _Home._ She still wasn’t used to that, but reminding herself of it helped.

Once she was clean and dressed in the cleaner of her clothes sets, she got out some of her new bedsheets to put on. She spent the rest of the day just trying to get used to being here, and _living_ here. Here, in her new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which writing from hatchets perspective leads to a lot of repetition about the whole Home thing. its very significant to her can u tell  
> thanks for reading, any comments n kudos appreciated!!


	23. Entomology

Hatchet slept better than usual that night. Finally in a proper bed of her own, even jolting awake in the midst of the darkness after another nightmare was a little easier.

The shivers running through her weren’t exacerbated by cold, and the comfort of her sleeping arrangement drew her to lie down again sooner. Her breathing was still rapid and shallow in wake of it, a nausea risen in her as usual, but it felt just that little bit better to be here in the warmth, reminded as soon as she was aware of her surroundings what the difference in her situation was. Just a month or so prior she would never have considered trying to rest more after being subjected to the torment yet again, but now, the soft mattress and warm duvet around her beckoned her to lose herself in sleep again, and she knew she needed the rest for the day ahead.

She took a moment to try and calm down first, getting a drink, yawning slightly. There was still some resistance, still not _wanting_ to sleep more, but she knew there wasn’t much else she would do at whatever ungodly hour of the morning it was. Waiting until the worst of her panic had subsided, she adhered to the bed, lying down and letting herself try and rest more.

Waking early as usual, Hatchet stretched as she got up. It seemed the nightmares hadn’t followed her for the second half of the night, leaving her in a pleasantly neutral state as she rose. Wandering to the little kitchen, she idly wondered what sort of time Pascal would be up.

She was used to being up earlier than the majority of the world, though now that she was sleeping more didn’t get up _quite_ as early – still sooner than many, though. The exhaustion and set times of her job forcing her to rest properly and set up a proper sleep schedule seemed to be having a good impact, and she felt better for getting more than only about four hours’ sleep each night as she used to.

Opening up the cupboards, she wondered what to have for breakfast. She hadn’t been able to get a huge amount of variety – she could only carry so much back from the shop, after all – and settled for frying an egg to have with some toast, eating a banana while it cooked. She was running low on fruit, she’d have to pick some up soon.

_Wait…_

Yesterday was Saturday, and she’d completely forgotten to go to Phoebe’s stand, preoccupied with moving in as she was. _Fuck._ What had Phoebe said when they first arranged it? Was it always Saturdays or just weekends in general? Was it fine if she just went over today instead?

Feeling a pang of guilt as she ate her breakfast, she resolved to go over today instead and hope for the best. _Guess I should swap numbers with Phoebe too. She probably would’ve asked where I was if she could’ve._ So much for checking out those co-ordinates this weekend, unless she could fit it in that afternoon.

Her free time seemed to be rapidly dissipating. Was there something else she was missing, too? There was a slight sense of that nagging at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t place what it was.

Impatient, Hatchet wondered what time Phoebe usually set up the stand, unsure when she’d be able to go over. Even if she’d have to stick around until the busier lunch period regardless, the sooner she could go and explain her absence, the better. She’d probably still have to wait until at least 9 am though.

Restless, the morning passed slowly. It was a couple of hours later that Pascal got up, waving to Hatchet as they came into the sitting room. She glanced up from the sofa, having been looking things up on her phone. “Hey.”

It seemed the market was open from 9, but whether individual stands set up at that time or not it didn’t say. If she wanted to get there for then just in case, she should go soon. Grabbing her boots, Pascal watched her curiously as they came back into the room with breakfast of their own. When Hatchet noticed them looking at her, she realised they didn’t have the notebook with them, still in pyjamas.

“Going out. Stuff I usually do on weekends,” she said briefly. “…You got a phone yet?”

Pascal shook their head.

“Right… Not much point leaving my number… Guess I’ll see you later.”

Pascal waved to her again as she left, locking up behind her. Even with being early on her way in the first place, she still found herself taking up a hasty pace, nerves driving her forwards. When she arrived at the market, she made a beeline for Phoebe’s stand.

Phoebe looked like she’d just arrived, setting down a backpack on the table behind the counter. Hatchet felt an immediate spike of nerves upon seeing her, finally slowing slightly as she went to join her there.

“Uh… Hey,” she said quietly.

Phoebe looked up at the sound, soon spotting her. “’Atchet, ‘ey. Missed ya yesterday, where were ya?”

“…Sorry about that,” Hatchet said sheepishly, looking aside. “Was moving into my flat and completely forgot…”

“Oh, damn, ya got yerself a place?” Phoebe asked, breaking out into a broad smile. “That’s great news! Don’t worry about it, ya were busy wi’ that, makes sense. Yer own flat, though! Congrats!”

“…Thanks,” Hatchet said, scratching at her arm awkwardly. “I mean… I wasn’t really that busy, it’s not as if I had a lot of stuff to move…”

“And?” Phoebe shrugged. “’S still a big deal. In any case, I can totally get ya bein’ busy an’ all, so don’t worry about it.”

“I can help out today instead…”

“Sure, I ain’t gonna turn that down,” Phoebe said with a smile. “Sundays get busy too. But c’mon, tell me about yer place, ya can’t tell me yer _not_ excited about that.”

“Well… yeah…” Hatchet relaxed slightly, glad to see Phoebe didn’t seem too bothered. A small smile escaped her as she perched against the table in her usual seat. “It’s nothing fancy or anything. Furbished, since obviously I don’t have any of that stuff. And I ended up getting a two bedroom one since… Going around the test centres and all, breaking out the other lab rats, everyone needs a place to stay. So… I’ve got one of them living with me now. Pascal.”

“Aww, yer makin’ friends an’ everythin’,” Phoebe teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Hatchet said, rolling her eyes. “Pascal’s mute, they can’t annoy me with talking like everyone else does anyway.”

“They can’t talk?” Phoebe echoed, surprise rising on her face.

“Seems that way,” Hatchet said, then growled slightly, narrowing her eyes. “The others didn’t know what to do with them at all. Yesterday when we were talking – I gave them a notepad before so they could write in it to communicate – they said _I_ was easy to talk to. _Me!_ How bad do the rest of them have to be about it for _me_ to be easier to talk to? Useless.”

“Yer not that bad,” Phoebe said, chuckling slightly. “Ya really don’t give yerself a break. I ain’t much ‘f a social butterfly in general, and yet we’re friends now. Sure, yer a grump an’ all, but yer pretty easy ta talk to, fer me ‘t least.” Phoebe paused, shifting slightly as she thought. “‘S jus’ a matter of what kinda person ya are, I reckon. I’m ‘appy wi’ stayin’ quiet when ya want, so ’s no problem. We suit each other. ‘S jus’ gonna be the same kinda thing ‘s that.”

“If you say so…” Unconvinced, Hatchet idly watched ahead at the other stands and their staff setting up. It was hard to imagine herself ‘suiting’ anyone. She’d always been an outcast. It was true that she and Phoebe got along well, though, and a lot of it was to do with Phoebe’s character. Her blunt straightforward attitude had been enough to let Hatchet be open to the thought of trusting her from the start, and being able to stay her antisocial self without forcing any pleasantries out drew Hatchet to her somewhat. Phoebe had become someone around whom she could just _be_ , without reprimand.

“So, ya gonna ‘ang around or jus’ droppin’ by fer now ta say why ya weren’t ‘ere yesterday?” Phoebe asked.

“I can help out. I’m not doing anything,” Hatchet replied. “Didn’t have plans. I’ll stick around ‘til when I usually go.”

“Sweet,” Phoebe said cheerfully, smiling as she reached for her backpack, beginning to set up. The morning wasn’t particularly busy, and the two of them whiled away the time with silent moments rising and falling in between snippets of conversation, drawn out of it by occasional customers that increased in frequency as they approached midday.

As the hectic hours began, Hatchet felt her phone buzz in her pocket, reminding her to exchange numbers with Phoebe. Ignoring it for now, she waited until the busy lunch period was over before pulling the phone out, trading details with Phoebe before opening the message. Apparently she’d gotten another without noticing during the rush, with two notifications displayed now – one from Marina, and one from Lavender.

The one from Marina was at the top of the list, so she opened it first. Apparently they’d settled on plans for hitting the next test centre. _Took long enough._ Friday, once everyone was done with work. Even just knowing when they’d be going filled her with anticipation, and she wished it was sooner. She wanted that mess over and dealt with already. She sent back a quick text to confirm she’d be available and opened the one from Lavender.

_> Hey! Going to take Nattie to the park later, want to join again? _

_Of course._ Hatchet began typing a quick yes before noting the timestamp on the message, showing it was the earlier one she’d ignored. 

_> yeah. when are you going?_

Immediately slightly antsy, she felt a little nervous waiting for a response, hoping she wasn’t too late. There was no reason to believe she would be, given whenever she’d been there with them before they’d been out for over an hour. The message wasn’t that old, but she was still put on edge, jumping slightly when her phone went off again.

_> Just leaving now. Meet at the park?_

Hatchet let out a relieved breath, typing out a quick confirmation to send before looking up again. The stand was quiet again, and Phoebe was looking at her own phone. She glanced over when she saw Hatchet stand from where she’d been leaning against the table.

“Ya ‘eadin’ off?”

“Yeah,” Hatchet replied, picking up a variety of fruit to stuff in her pockets. “See you around.”

“See ya then. Good ‘avin’ ya ‘ere,” Phoebe said, smiling slightly as she waved.

Hatchet made her way to the park, taking up another hasty pace. The ever familiar nerves ran through her as she went, and once she arrived at the park she saw Lavender and Nattie just walking to the gates. The usual nausea was settling in her stomach, but she ignored it.

As she approached, the two of them reached the entrance, stopping and turning to look. Nattie soon started bouncing up and down once she saw her, smiling. Seeing her happy brought up a joy of Hatchet’s own, quashing all the stress momentarily and pushing her forward. Nattie ran to join her, and as she approached Hatchet bent down to pick her up in a hug.

“Hey, squirt,” Hatchet said, smiling.

“Hatchet!” Nattie chirped, wrapping her arms around Hatchet’s neck.

“How’s it going?” Hatchet asked, walking over to the gate where Lavender waited.

“I drew the big zapfish and it looks really cool! And when I coloured it I didn’t go out of the lines even once. Lavvy said we can get things to put it on the fridge.”

“I’ll have to have a look next time I’m there,” Hatchet said, patting her head. “Hopefully it’ll be up by then, hmm?”

“Yeah!”

Nattie wriggled to get free as they got to the gate, Hatchet letting her down and watching her ready to shoot off into the park. “Stay close, now,” Hatchet reminded her.

“I will!”

Straightening up, Hatchet kept an eye on her for a moment as she went before having her attention drawn as Lavender spoke.

“Hi, Hatchet. How are you?”

“…Same as ever,” Hatchet replied.

“I heard you moved into a place yesterday, that’s great news,” Lavender said with a gentle smile. “Is it nice?”

“It’s fine enough,” Hatchet muttered. She still wasn’t quite… _sure_ of Lavender. She didn’t actively _distrust_ her anymore as she did most strangers, but… Hatchet just didn’t quite know what to make of her yet. Peppermint had once said Lavender cared about her too, and… there _seemed_ to be evidence of that… That was undeniable, between the advice and help Lavender had offered her, and there was the fact that she kept Hatchet’s secret when she found the warehouse back then too.

Lavender just didn’t quite _make sense_ to her. Lavender knew more than enough about her to know what kind of person she was, and mostly seemed to just… brush it off. And sure, that was true of others as well, but Peppermint and Phoebe had both managed to forge some semblance of friendship with her, which seemed to justify it, but that wasn’t really the case with Lavender. She had just… decided her own seemingly positive thoughts on Hatchet regardless.

Hatchet was pulled out of her thoughts as Nattie came over to them, tugging on Lavender’s sleeve. “I found a bug! Come help me pick it up.”

Lavender smiled. “Sure thing.”

Hatchet followed as Nattie led them over to a patch of daisies growing amidst the grass, pointing out a ladybird. Lavender gently picked up the small beetle to put on Nattie’s outstretched hand, Nattie chirping delightedly as she did so.

Lavender did seem to be good with Nattie – the two of them looked like they got along well, and that did bring a slight smile to Hatchet’s face. Maybe she didn’t quite understand Lavender, but she could still be grateful for what she did regardless. Lavender seemed to catch the smile as she looked over, giving one of her own.

“Why don’t you tell Hatchet about the bugs?” Lavender suggested.

“Ooh! Yes!” Nattie said, her eyes lighting up. “This one’s a ladybird! They’re really cute! This one is red but they can be yellow or orange too. And Peppermint said sometimes when people are growing things and other bugs are eating it, they might get lots of ladybirds to put on the plants and they eat the other bugs. And, the one we saw last time, that was a beetle too! Ladybirds aren’t called beetles but they _are_ beetles. The other one was a rose chafer. I like how they’re all pretty and shiny! It’s weird. It makes them look like they would be heavy and they don’t look like they should be able to fly but they _can_.”

“…Huh. Didn’t know that,” Hatchet replied. She didn’t really know much about bugs in general, only familiar with a few common names. “You like bugs, then?”

“Yeah! They’re really cool. Here, hold this one,” Nattie said, holding out the ladybird to her.

“Uh, sure, but it might just fly off,” Hatchet said, reaching for the little bug. _Cod, it’s so tiny. How do you not just end up crushing it?_ Gingerly picking it up, she managed to get it into her hand without any evidence of harming it.

“I wanna find more. Which tree was the rose chafer on last time? I think it was that one,” Nattie said, looking around the park before darting away to one of the trees. Hatchet walked along behind her, following with Lavender.

“You’re not bothered by bugs, then?” Lavender asked.

“Not really,” Hatchet replied.

“That’s good,” Lavender said, then chuckled slightly. “She’s really enthusiastic about them. The books I read said about being supportive of the things a kid likes, so that’d probably be harder if you didn’t like them.”

“I still need to read those,” Hatchet muttered. “You said you got them from the library, right? Are you done with them?”

“Mm-hmm, me and Peppermint both read them so we returned them. I can text you the names if you want, I still remember them.”

“Yeah… That’d be good.”

Lavender pulled out her phone as they walked, Hatchet soon feeling her own buzz in her pocket. They caught up to Nattie under the tree just as Lavender put the phone back in her pocket, seeing Nattie crouched next to the trunk and peering at the bark where a line of ants walked.

“These ones are ants!” Nattie announced proudly as they came to a halt. “They work in a big group! They have a nest and all the worker ants go out and collect stuff to bring back to use. Some of them can have wings, and some of them don’t. And they’re really strong even though they’re tiny! Not stronger than us, though. But they can carry stuff way heavier than they are. And if something is too heavy they group together to move it. They come in different kinds and some of them bite but black ones like these don’t.”

“Damn. These bugs are better at teamwork than I am,” Hatchet replied, snickering slightly. “You sure know a bunch about them.”

“I asked Peppermint! And then we found a book about bugs at the library too! I want to read all about them,” Nattie replied, then tugged on Hatchet’s sleeve. “Pick up one of the ants too!”

“An ant? Isn’t that going to run all over me if I pick it up?” Hatchet asked. “I feel like something that busy would just get lost up my sleeve or something. And didn’t you say the ladybirds eat other bugs? Would it just eat it?”

“No, ladybirds eat different bugs, not ants,” Nattie replied. “They eat smaller things with squishier bodies. Here, I’ll get one!” She placed the end of her arm down on the tree trunk in the path of the ants, one of them crawling onto her, then moved to guide it onto Hatchet’s hand along with the ladybird.

“Uh. Okay. Guess I’ve got both of these now,” Hatchet said, wondering if she could tighten the cuffs on her sleeves for any future outings that might involve being assigned creepy-crawlies to carry.

“I wanna find another shiny beetle!” Nattie said as she bounced up. “One of the pretty ones. The… Uh… What was the word Peppermint said? When they’re all shiny and go different colours in the light.”

“Iridescent?” Lavender offered.

“Yeah! That! I wanna find one like that.”

Hatchet found herself slightly distracted as Nattie rushed off to explore again, preoccupied by the feeling of the ant running all over her hand. The ladybird was a lot more stationary, but she kept having to redirect the ant away from her wrist as she walked. Lavender seemed to wear an amused smile as she walked alongside her.

“You’re doing great,” she said with a slight laugh.

Hatchet narrowed her eyes. “Don’t patronise me. It’s just a couple of bugs.”

That only made Lavender laugh a little more.

The three of them wandered around the park, Hatchet and Lavender following Nattie as she found more bugs to show them, having facts to share about most of them. The ant did indeed disappear up Hatchet’s sleeve at one point, forcing her to hand the ladybird to Lavender as she unbuttoned her cuff to get it out. Thankfully it didn’t get past her elbow, didn’t force her to show the upper half of her arms and drag out awkward looks or questions about the scars there.

She left the ant in the grass after that, though Nattie continued to get her to pick things up as they went, even if the grasshopper immediately jumped away and one flying bug they couldn’t identify adamantly refused to be caught. By the time they returned to the park entrance, Nattie had slowed in her pace considerably, while Hatchet still held the remarkably passive ladybird and very little else, but had seen quite a number of other bugs and learned more than she ever expected to about them.

“Are we going home now?” Nattie asked as she saw the gates, sounding a little disappointed.

“We’ve been out for quite a while. Do you wanna stay out longer or are you getting a little tired?”

“I like seeing the bugs…” Nattie whined, though she trailed off thoughtfully. “I _am_ a bit tired though… And hungry.”

“Let’s go home and have a snack, then,” Lavender replied. 

“Can I have cake?”

“Sure, we can have cake today,” Lavender said, smiling.

“Yay!” Nattie beamed, then ran over to peek at the ladybird still in Hatchet’s hand. “We should leave the ladybird here. Since it lives here!”

“Sure,” Hatchet agreed, crouching down and gently placing it onto the grass. As she straightened up again, Nattie hugged her, as tightly as her little arms would allow.

“Can we do this every week? I wanna show you _all_ the bugs!”

“Sure,” Hatchet said again, smiling as she patted Nattie’s back. “You can tell me all about them.”

“I’m gonna learn all about every bug ever! Then I can tell you everything!”

“Sounds good,” Hatchet replied as Nattie let go of her. “See you again next weekend then, hey?”

“Okay!”

“See you later,” Lavender said, waving slightly.

“Yeah. See you,” Hatchet replied, then heading home. Even with the familiar nausea rising every time she saw Nattie, even with the stress it rose in her leaving her exhausted afterwards, she still felt a little happier for having seen her. Nattie seemed to be pretty happy herself, and well. Knowing that brought Hatchet just a little bit of comfort, even amidst everything else. Tired as she was, she still walked home with a slight smile on her face.


	24. Hollow

The week passed at an odd pace, feeling both too long and too short at the same time. Hatchet had found a routine for work at this point, settling into waking and going to sleep around the same time each day.

She was getting used to the job itself, too – beginning to remember names and what to expect. Sandra had commended her for “branching out” and talking to the coworkers she didn’t already know – but really she was just doing as Marina suggested and avoiding Pearl, which often meant not seeing either of them.

Friday arrived with her feeling anticipant for the upcoming excursion to the test centre. They were so close to being done with these places. Impatient after she finished with work, she went to go and find the news presenters. Heading to their dressing room, she found them there.

“…Hey. We expecting to wait around much?”

“Oh, Hatchet,” Marina said absent mindedly, her attention largely focused on the laptop in front of her. “We won’t be done here for another hour, so at least that long… Other than that, I think everyone’ll be fine to go soon after then.”

Hatchet nodded slightly, though she wasn’t sure anyone saw it, considering Marina’s focus on the laptop and Pearl adamantly turning her displeased gaze elsewhere. Wandering away to go and pick up her things, she wasn’t sure what to do with the extra time.

She was on an earlier shift than them – she had noticed they were never around when she first started. She supposed she should eat – she always found herself hungry after work, and it would be better to deal with the test centre properly fed. Leaving the studio, she glanced around the square.

She was a little curious about what else was on the menu at the food truck, but it was approaching rush hour, busy and full of people. Still, she knew the area well – she was sure she remembered seeing a small café on one of the quieter back roads. Not somewhere she’d ever paid much attention to, but she at least recalled where it was. Hopefully somewhere out of the way would still be quiet even at this time.

Diverting away from the main streets, she headed over to where she’d seen it – not particularly far from the city centre, but on one of the less travelled roads, on a street corner leading to more of a suburban area. Glancing up at it, the café was called Ruby Chai, and to keep up with the name the place had a lot of _red_ in the décor, along with a number of big, leafy plants.

They were clearly aiming for a very comfy atmosphere, with most of the seating being cushy and plush. There were a few people present, but not many, and the place was quiet, ambient music floating through the room.

Next to the counter was a glass display with various cakes and above was a menu on the wall displaying all the meal options. Hatchet ordered a latte and some carbonara, taking a seat in a corner by the window. She connected to the wifi as she waited, browsing on her phone.

She didn’t have much to do, mostly just checking her emails. She didn’t have any social media accounts or websites she frequently checked, what with most of her life spent with her only online access being at the library. Just looking through her inbox didn’t take up much time, and she wondered what to do as she waited, idly staring out the window.

It occurred to her that she didn’t really have any hobbies. Before, she either wasn’t exposed to any ideas of such things, or had all her free time eaten away by scavenging and doing what she had to just to get by. Any spare moments were dedicated to learning how to combat an AI, how to craft the EMP. Now, though… She had free time on her hands, and no idea what to do with it. _I should probably change that…_

Eyeing the décor, she wondered if she might find any prompts there. There were certainly a lot of plants here. She couldn’t see herself being much of a gardener, though, no matter how green her thumb was. What else? What hobbies did people even _have?_ Some people did art, right? Was that worth trying? Maybe. She’d never really tried before. She didn’t imagine she’d be any good at it, having no practice whatsoever. On top of that, art seemed like a lot of… sitting still. She wasn’t really used to that.

She certainly needed to find something to _do_ with herself – her aforementioned familiarity with busyness meant the time to relax soon stopped being relaxing, and she found herself restless sitting around at home doing nothing. Hell, even Pascal already had a hobby, tinkering with that mechanical arm thing.

A ticking cuckoo clock on a shelf caught her eye, and Hatchet wondered if it would be worth getting them some other gadget to disassemble. Surely going over the same one repeatedly must get dull… Maybe it would be worth looking around for something they could work with, and she might find something herself in the meantime.

She spent a while flicking through webpages of such things, mostly just trying to gauge what would suit them best. They certainly seemed capable enough with that… arm… thing, but what about things not powered by electricity? Would they be as capable with those? Maybe.

The clock had a price label next to it, as did a number of art pieces on the shelves. Curious, Hatchet wandered over to look. She had no idea what the average cost of a clock was, or if this would be considered expensive or cheap, but… she could probably afford it. Not now, but when her next paycheck came in. If Pascal didn’t care for it, it would still be something to have at home.

The regular ticking it gave out seemed like pleasant background noise, too. Their flat was on a fairly quiet road, not seeing much noise from passing traffic or the like, and having something to hear might be nice. A change to mark the difference between there and the dump, the warehouse or the test centre. She made a note to remember this place, so she’d be able to come back for it at the end of the next month.

Her food and drink arrived, and she ate quickly, hungry after work. It hadn’t taken her too long to walk here, so she had plenty of time to sit, letting the meal go down. She gazed out the window aimlessly as she turned her thoughts to potential pastimes once more, even if largely to no avail. When she headed back to the studio, it occurred to her to check by the side door rather than the main door for staff. Already waiting there were Peppermint, Badger, Eight, and Agents One and Two.

“…No kidding about the crowds,” she muttered.

“Shockingly, we’re pretty serious about not wanting to die,” Agent Two replied.

 _What’ll the studio staff think of this whole lot trekking through the building to get to the roof?_ _…Then again, Pearl and Marina have had a bunch of us before…_ Hatchet shrugged, opening the door with her own card.

“Woah, how come _you_ have access?” Badger asked.

Hatchet rolled her eyes. “I work here now.”

“Oh, yes. Marina and Pearl mentioned that,” Eight said. “Well… Marina did.” She said something else in a foreign tongue, trailing off slightly. Peppermint seemed to smile slightly at whatever she said. _Probably about the runt complaining about me_.

Hatchet paid it no mind as she walked in, only to meet the pipsqueak in question. She’d come to let them in herself, no doubt. With no interest in exchanging words with her, Hatchet strode right past the short inkling and headed towards the rooftop. She half expected a biting sarcastic comment to follow her, but nothing came, instead just the chatter of the others as they all entered the building, soon with the lot of them piling into the awaiting helicopter.

It was more cramped with so many people, and Hatchet found the lack of space meant someone did in fact have to sit next to her. The backpack containing her things initially guarded the space there but ended up morosely pulled onto her lap to make room as Agent Two took the seat. Hatchet only hoped the stranger would have a quieter temperament.

Hatchet found herself actually wishing Peppermint had sat there, unusual as it was to consider _wanting_ any specific person near her. At least she knew Peppermint wasn’t particularly loud or energetic. She might be a little overbearing in how much she insisted on trying to be nice, but at least she wasn’t exhausting.

As they took off, Marina went into a similar spiel to everyone as on their last trip, explaining the gist of things to their new companions, who she seemed… somewhat excited to speak to, given the circumstances. Agent Two did indeed seem the quieter of the pair. _Lucky me._

For the most part none of it was new information, and Hatchet’s only obligation to contribute was acknowledgement when Marina explained her use of the EMP. There was some reiteration of what they had found out regarding the sanitised octolings and the need to be additionally cautious in light of that, but little more. The journey passed easily enough, and once they touched down Hatchet had to wait to be one of the last to get out, stuck in the back corner where she’d sat. Late as it was, the summer evening was still warm and bright as she emerged.

“Alright, we got as close as we could to the coordinates,” Marina said. “It should be around here somewhere.”

Hatchet glanced around the area as she pulled her equipment out of her backpack. They’d landed on a grassy area at the base of a mountain, forest growing nearby on the flatter ground.

“We heading up the mountain or into the trees?” Badger asked.

“I can’t be sure, but I think the forest,” Marina replied. “All of them have been concealed in some way or other, and the mountainside is a little too bare.”

Badger nodded, heading towards the tree line. The rest of the group followed, though an air of uncertainty seemed to hang over them.

“…Be careful heading into those trees,” Agent Two said. “Plenty of things for enemies to hide behind.”

Peppermint seemed to be the one taking the lead, holding her brella ready to open out if she needed to. Badger stayed close, walking alongside her, while Eight and Agent One fanned out to the sides slightly. Hatchet moved up slightly to walk just ahead of Peppermint.

“Um…” Peppermint began. “I think I should be in front… so if anything appears they’ll have to hit the brella first.”

 _Sap._ “I don’t want to end up having to save your asses again like last time you two got there first,” Hatchet replied. If anything was going to put them in danger, she trusted herself to be able to handle it. It only made sense to deal with it before anyone got hurt.

“And I don’t want you to get shot again…”

“You didn’t stop that the first time,” Hatchet snorted.

“She kinda did,” Badger replied.

“Then explain to me why one of my shirts had to be sewn up and _still_ has a significant bloodstain on the back.”

“Well sure, the _first_ shot got you,” Badger said, frowning slightly. “But after that she had her brella open preventing you from getting shot _again_. It’s thanks to her you didn’t _die._ I mean, come on, how did you think she ended up getting hit herself when she had a defensive weapon?”

“…What?” The word slipped out of Hatchet's mouth, too caught by surprise. She hadn’t really been able to pay attention to her surroundings back then, her thoughts too clouded by the agony in her back.

“Um, nevermind,” Pep said quietly, only to be soon interrupted.

“No, not nevermind,” Badger interjected. “She should be grateful. After you got shot the first time, Pep had only just barely been too late getting the brella open, so when the AI kept shooting it hit that instead of you. Then when it broke through the brella, Pep put _herself_ between it and you just before I got the goo off. Pep got herself shot to _save your life_.”

 _She… did that?_ Hatchet slowed slightly as she absorbed that information. She didn’t really remember enough detail from that day to say whether that was true or not. She’d been facing the wall when she crumpled, so she hadn’t seen any of it. Though… It did seem then like there had been some time between when she first got shot and when that situation was resolved, and then Peppermint had needed treating at the hospital too. That much made sense with Badger’s account. On top of that… Peppermint certainly was a big enough sap to do something like that. _Even for me…_

Hatchet looked up at the other experiment as they walked. Peppermint was still keeping a wary lookout ahead of them, but when she saw Hatchet watching her, she gave a hesitant smile. _She cared enough about me to risk her life for me. Even then._ At the time, Hatchet never would have believed it – but now, when she had been given so much evidence of that, time and time again…

She swallowed slightly on the well of emotions that brought up. This wasn’t the time for that. In her shock she had fallen behind Peppermint slightly, but as she turned her attention wordlessly back to the forest, she didn’t rectify that.

“Found it!”

The call came from Agent One, some ways off. The rest of them convened around her, near a cabin somewhat reminiscent of the first one they’d found since forming their little team.

“I think? This is the right logo thing, right?” Agent One added, gesturing at the door. Sure enough, it was the familiar blue Kamabo logo.

“Yup, that’s the one,” Pearl said, reaching for the door handle to turn. It didn’t give as she rattled the lock. “…Locked. Exactly as I totes suspected from the start.”

Hatchet wordlessly pulled out the crowbar from her backpack, unable to stop the smug smirk that wormed its way onto her face as she looked over at Pearl. Pearl huffed, moving aside as Hatchet tore the door open. “You’re welcome,” Hatchet said.

“Oh, fuck off,” Pearl growled, adamantly striding past her into the building. Inside was a stairway leading down, and at the bottom a set of white doors. Hatchet didn’t have time to warn otherwise before Pearl hopped the banister, jumping straight down to the bottom. “So how do you open these things? There’s no handle.”

“ _Idiot,_ ” Hatchet growled, quickly setting down her backpack to pull out the EMP – though to her surprise, there was no sliding apart of automatic doors, no light that spilled from within. Hatchet paused at the lack of response, annoyance spiking as Pearl knocked on the doors loudly. Nothing happened. Hatchet furrowed her brow, suspicious. “ _Don’t fucking tell them we’re here!_ ”

“Alright, calm down, jeez!” Pearl said heatedly, scowling at her.

Peppermint wandered in slowly. “Well… before they seemed to have automatic doors that would open when someone went near… but I guess that isn’t the case.”

The others filed in slowly, Marina at the back holding her laptop. “This is… I can’t see any readings from this. But… The EMP hasn’t gone off yet, since everything of mine is still working. But it doesn’t look like there’s anything here, as far as I can detect.”

“Which means, what, do we think?” Agent One asked.

“I’m not sure… It could be an attempt to stay hidden. But it would indicate it’s all shut down inside, at least for now,” Marina replied. “Of course, we may open those doors and see an army of sanitised octarians waiting for us…”

“That’s where a charger will come in handy,” Agent Two said. “At the very least I can clear out a whole line in one if I charge up before we open the door.”

“That’s a good call. And Peppermint, if we could have your brella ready…”

“Mm. Just tell me when to open it,” Peppermint agreed.

“I’ll stay up here with my laptop, just in case. Hatchet, you can get those doors open, right?”

 _Obviously._ “Yeah.”

“Then as soon as Mar- _ahem_ , Agent Two has her shot ready, please do so. Everyone else, stay behind Peppermint in range of the brella’s shield if you can, and have your weapons ready.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement as they got into position, ready to unleash fire. The red laser of a charger pointer focused on the door, and Agent Two gave confirmation that she was ready to shoot. Hatchet felt her nerves rise slightly. She was the one who’d be in the most vulnerable position here… There wasn’t much other option though.

Steeling herself, she shoved the edge of the crowbar roughly between the doors, yanking them apart. As soon as the gap opened, she ducked away quickly as Peppermint rose her tenta brella in preparation for… nothing.

The silence continued as everyone held their breaths. After a few moments, Hatchet moved closer, pulling her torch out and shining it through the gap, the corridor beyond giving away nothing.

“You said those sanitised things had glowing glasses or something, right?” she asked.

“Yes, the ones we have seen before,” Eight said uneasily.

“No sign of that in there,” Hatchet murmured, shoving the doors open further. She pointed her torch ahead of her, illuminating the empty hallway.

“Nothing…” Marina said uncertainly. “This may still be a trap. I still think it’d be best for me to stay out here with my laptop ready, in case things do turn on again… But while you all go in, be wary of corners and open rooms. Don’t let anything take you by surprise.”

“Got that,” Badger said, stepping in. They’d brought their own torch, sweeping the halls ahead.

“We should all swap to the same ink colour in case we do end up fighting,” Agent One suggested. “We don’t wanna end up getting each other hurt in the dark.”

“What colour?” Eight asked.

“Let’s go green,” Agent One said. “Here, this shade.” She shone her own light at the coloured ends of her tentacles to show.

Hatchet shifted her colour to suit, walking ahead. They all slowly walked through the corridors, the tension thicker than the inky blackness around them. The more they went on, the more it seemed like there truly was nothing here, yet somehow that was the exact opposite of comforting. It felt incredibly ominous as they proceeded, even finding the computer room without the slightest hint of anything present.

The agents seemed to be able to talk to Marina via their headsets, and kept her updated with the situation. At her request, instead of smashing the computer they pulled out the hard drive again – something Peppermint had taken the initiative to recognise and learn how to disconnect – then returned to outside. Their company walked in relative silence, and it seemed the aura of uncertainty exuded not just from Hatchet alone.

“…What’s the deal?” Badger muttered as they emerged, on edge.

“You said that was the second last one of these places?” Agent Two asked. “If there really is just nothing there, then it’s pooling all of its resources into the last one.”

“It seems that way,” Marina said, clearly dissatisfied. “Well… We’ll see what I find out when I have a look at this hard drive. Hopefully we’ll learn something…”

“Are we… going to check if there’s anyone there?” Peppermint asked quietly.

“I’m… not hopeful about that,” Marina replied. “I mean… if what I read about its other habits regarding the inhabitants is anything to go by… If there _was_ anyone here, there probably won’t be any more, since it shut the place down.”

Hatchet began heading back to the helicopter, lost in thought. They had been expecting such a significant challenge, enough to bring in the backup, only to be met with… that absolute non-event. If Agent Two’s appraisal of the situation was anything to go by – which seemed very reasonable – that only meant a significant challenge ahead. This was the calm before the storm, it seemed.

As they headed back to Inkopolis, the sense of unease remained. Marina pulled out the chunkier thick old laptop Hatchet recognised as the one she’d spoken to the damned AI on, and she watched as the octoling pulled out a set of screwdrivers and deftly disassembled the casing, swapping the hard drive for the one they’d obtained. She made it look easy with how rapidly she had it back together again and turning on.

“…Mmm. I thought as much,” Marina muttered a brief while later. “Yeah, it says here the running experiment was discontinued – I’m sure we know what that’s Tartar-speak for…”

“…When?” Peppermint asked softly – fearfully, almost.

“Hmm?”

“When… was that?”

Marina flicked slightly through the files. “Yesterday.”

“…If we had come sooner, we could have saved them.” Peppermint’s voice was deathly quiet as she spoke, and as Hatchet looked over to her, it was clear there were tears forming in her eyes. A heavy cloud seemed to settle over them all as her words sunk in, the tapping at the laptop falling silent.

“…There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Marina said softly, though Hatchet was sure she heard her breath catch ever so slightly.

Peppermint sniffed, and those tears were visible falling down her cheeks then. Badger next to her squeezed her hand, then gave her a tight hug. Hatchet heard a similar noise from nearer, the feeling apparently contagious as she spotted Agent One growing similarly distraught. Agent Two put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

All Hatchet could think about then was Nattie. The thought that it could have been her if they had done things just slightly differently made her feel sick to her core. _She’s safe, though._ Hatchet clung to that thought, drawing in a long breath. _It **didn’t** happen to her and she **is** safe._

The silence was broken as Marina cursed, suddenly resuming her typing furiously for a moment before almost flinching back from the keyboard. “No, no, no, don’t-” She let out a heavy sigh. “Damn it… It deleted everything.” She slapped the laptop shut loudly, sliding it onto the floor before burying her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this. Now we have _nothing_ to go on for the last one.”

“H-hey, that’s fine,” Pearl said, patting her arm. “We ain’t had anythin’ on most of these places and it’s been fine…”

“But this is the last one, it’s going to be the _most_ dangerous, the AI will probably act desperately now that everywhere else is shut down, we don’t know just what measures it might resort to, what measures it will have _available_ to it, and it has _all_ of those sanitised octarians, and- and we have _nothing!_ ” Marina burst out, miserable frustration clear in her voice.

A moment of silence followed, everyone at a loss for words. Eventually the quiet broke, Eight speaking up, initially in rapid octarian. Marina replied in kind, and while the language was beyond Hatchet’s knowledge, the wailing dejection clear in her voice needed no translation.

“…Hey now. We have everything we need,” Agent Two said quietly. “This may not be ideal, but we have a number of Inkopolis’ finest right here, and more waiting in the wings. On top of that, we have all the specialist intel on our opponent available to us. We know what it is and how it operates. It’s not a perfect situation, sure, and any little extras we would get from that hard drive would’ve been nice, but we still have plenty.”

“Yeah,” Agent One agreed, her voice wobbling slightly before she let out a sigh, then sat up a little straighter. “We’ve got this! We can’t let something like that get away with this. And you’ve never failed yet with any of this, right? We can do this.”

“I…” Marina trailed off, then shook her head slightly. “…Of course. I’m just… worried. I don’t want things to go poorly.”

“Understandable,” Agent Two said. “You’ve basically been heading this whole operation, haven’t you? And that’s stressful. But… Awful as the current situation may feel, we did technically succeed today. We should try and remember that. In the meantime, before the last one… Well, if you need someone to help you get things off your mind, I certainly know there are plenty of us who can help with that,” she continued, a slight hint of a smile forming. “Trust me, don’t bottle it up.”

“And that’s coming from _her_ ,” Agent One added, smiling and prompting Agent Two to elbow her slightly. “Um, ow?”

“If it already did, uh, _that,_ and if it’s preparing for a showdown, there’s no time pressure on us,” Pearl said. “Get on it with Grampa Cuttlefish and we can prep all we need.”

“Yeah…” Marina sighed slightly, leaning against her as she squeezed her hand. A moment of quiet fell, and if anyone was going to continue the conversation it was cut short by the helicopter touching down. Everyone soon got out, though a dissatisfied feeling still pervaded the air.

“Well, we’ll be in touch,” Marina said, sounding tired.

Hatchet couldn’t blame her. She felt the same way, somehow exhausted despite all that did not happen. She didn’t stick around to hear everyone’s lacklustre goodbyes, heading home quickly. There was a shared feeling between them all, an ominous sense of foreboding about what was left to come.

She didn’t like this one bit.


End file.
